There is a new entry in the overstuffed “What fresh hell?” category for 2026 – people have started making butter while they run. “You may be asking yourself why,” content creator Libby Cope says in one of the videos that kicked off this weirdness (yes, yes I am); “The real question is why not?” She and her partner then pour cream and salt into double-bagged zip-lock sandwich bags, which they put into their backpacks, before setting off, “churning and burning”.
After a few miles, Cope opens her bag to reveal she has made a bit of butter. They have kept up this weird new hobby and, according to Runners World: “Now, the couple has more butter than they know what to do with.” (Do they know how much butter costs these days? Sell it!)
Others are copying Cope’s bizarre hack, which perhaps shouldn’t come as a surprise: butter is very now, unexpectedly rebranded as the perfect on-the-go snack (social media offers people chomping sticks of the stuff, or feeding it to babies). I can see this blowing up in the age of Make America Healthy Again, combining as it does three of the movement’s favourite things: animal fats, strenuous physical activity and being completely unhinged. Give it a few days and RFK Jr and Kid Rock will be running around in jeans and cowboy boots with papooses of unpasteurised cream strapped to their bare chests (something to look forward to).
Although initially baffled by runners’ butter, I’m coming round. I see exercise as tedious but necessary, so the idea of harnessing it to something I enjoy more (eating) appeals. Surely there are other food-prep activities sufficiently strenuous they could double as a workout? I’m thinking I could devise a sort of culinary CrossFit: those 12-foot hand-pulled biang biang noodles are basically battle ropes you can eat; you could get a decent upper-body burn from kneading dough and hand whisking with enough volume and duration. And perhaps the cool-down phase could involve stamping some fruit into a restorative smoothie? The house will need a hose-down afterwards, but I reckon it’s a small sacrifice to Make Emma Dinner Again.
Emma Beddington is a Guardian columnist
