LOVER of the outdoors Jack Browne, aged 28, is thrilled to be dating Hannah Tomlinson, aged 25, who hates all that crap but fancies men who do it.
Jack on Hannah
First impression?
Really impressed, she’s far more glamorous than most girls who’ve done an Iron Man Triathlon and has far fancier nails. Proves that you don’t have to be all North Face and Mammut to be into that scene.
How was conversation?
Fantastic. She’s not a bragger even though she’s bagged a third of the Munros – as I told her, if I’d climbed that many I’d never shut up about it! Instead, gracefully, she was more interested in my achievements.
Memorable moments?
Hilariously, she managed to mix up wakeboarding and coasteering even though they’re completely different! We had a good laugh about that one! She was pretty keen to change the subject!
Favourite thing about Hannah?
She wears her achievements so lightly. I mentioned ultramarathons and she said ‘yeah, I think maybe I’ve done one of those’ as if you’d forget running 42 kilometres up the Matterhorn! I really admire her modesty.
A capsule description?
Absolutely hardcore. Her endurance prowess puts me to shame. Plus she’s really gorgeous and amazingly not carrying any injuries.
Was there a spark?
God yes.
What happened afterwards?
Well, we kissed, she indicated that it didn’t have to end there, and we went back to my place. I’ll draw a veil there but she certainly has stamina.
What would you change about the evening?
At times I felt a little bit outclassed. She acted like she was impressed by my mere handful of marathons and the time I climbed Kilimanjaro, then let slip that she could put that in the shade. She even had the courtesy to seem embarrassed.
Will you see each other again?
Yes, she’s joining me for a 15k on Sunday. I hope I can keep up with her is all.
Hannah on Jack
First impression?
Tinder didn’t lie. He’s got that rangy, outdoors, weatherbeaten look I absolutely melt for. Though anoraks are not suitable for dates even if they are ‘Patagonia’ or whatever.
How was conversation?
Focused. He wanted to know all about my training schedule, where I’d hiked, all that stuff. I bluffed a load of vague crap and he seemed to believe me. But he was really reticent about the stuff he’d done even though I was lapping it up.
Memorable moments?
He was blathering about some free climber basehumper crap and doing all these gestures and the light caught him and oh yes, the muscles. Oh mama. That was the point at which I decided I would be getting that shirt off.
Favourite thing about Jack?
The body, the looks, the thought of getting it on in the Lake District. I’m not camping though. Fuck that.
A capsule description?
Like a cowboy except I’ll be doing the riding.
Was there a spark?
Bloody hell yes. Like a climbing axe dragging down a granite wall, I imagine is the kind of thing he’d say.
What happened afterwards?
We went back to his and shagged, because I needed to seal the deal before he finds out I spend most evenings watching Coronation Street and most weekends deciding where to brunch. Fuck no I don’t go up Helvellyn, but we’ve found something physical to do together now, yeah?
What would you change about the evening?
I would have lied less or researched my lies better. From the widening of his eyes a few of my claims were perhaps more extreme than I intended. I thought an ultramarathon was like a short version?
Will you see each other again?
Yeah, I’m going watching him do a race on Sunday. He thinks I’m running it but I’m not. I’ll say I’ve hurt my leg or something.
