“Running topless isn’t about exhibition - it’s about freedom”
Louise Butcher reveals how she reclaimed her body without shame after breast cancer.
By Louise Butcher, cancer survivor, breast cancer advocate and ‘Topless Runner’
People often say to me, “You’re always running, Louise. How do you fit it into your busy life?” And they’re right. I often wonder the same thing myself. I have two kids, two dogs, a husband, a house, and the usual mountain of domestic chaos: cleaning, washing, finances, the endless school run, and that dreaded airing cupboard full of clean-but-never-ironed clothes. It’s all a bit of a jumble, like me, really. A beautiful mess of ADHD energy and motherhood.
The truth is, I don’t just want to run: I need to. Running isn’t a hobby. It’s medicine. Without it, all hell breaks loose in my head.
Running has kept me alive, quite literally, since my breast cancer diagnosis and double mastectomy, when I chose not to have reconstruction. It’s my therapy, my sanctuary, my rebellion. People call that “dedication,” but I don’t see it that way. I didn’t find motivation. It found me.
Running Toward Myself
When my two children were diagnosed with ADHD, the pieces of my own story finally clicked into place. My lifelong anxiety, my restless energy, my racing thoughts - they weren’t moral failings or a lack of discipline. They were symptoms of a brain that simply worked differently.
For years I’d tried to silence it, through therapy, alcohol, Googling symptoms at 2am and endless worrying. My brain never stopped building worst-case scenarios. The noise was constant. Running was the only thing that quieted it. It wasn’t exercise; it was exorcism.
Then came April 2022: lobular breast cancer. That’s when running became more than coping, it became survival. I had two choices: run, or die. Not just from cancer, but from my thoughts. And honestly? I don’t mean to seem flippant, because cancer is horrendous, but for me, it felt easier to deal with. There were appointments, a plan, an end in sight. My thoughts had no end. Running gave me one.
The Mask We Learn to Wear
ADHD in girls is often invisible. Boys fidget, tap, climb the walls. Girls internalise it. We learn to sit still, to be “good,” to fit in. We kick our legs under the desk where no one can see, and that trapped energy becomes anxiety. By six years old, we’ve already started losing our authentic selves to social expectations.
That’s where I began, and where I lost myself for decades, despite a career in music and then as a teacher. Cancer stripped me of everything, and running helped me find what was left: me. Flat chested, scared, but ready to tackle it all.
Running Topless: My Revolution
After my mastectomy, I made a choice that shocked people: I began running topless. It wasn’t a stunt and was never for attention, despite what the trolls like to think! It was acceptance, a way to reclaim my body without shame, without reconstruction, without apology. It is also far more comfortable for me not to have material rubbing on my scars. Rebellion AND comfort, in MY skin? I barely recognised myself.
For two and a half years now, I’ve run topless. I’ve shared those runs, all 800 of them, on social media, showing my scars, my strength, my freedom. And yes, I’ve opened a can of worms. People don’t quite know what to make of a topless woman running through Devon, smiling, unashamed.
But that’s exactly the point. By showing my body as it is scarred, strong, free, and a body thriving after being so ill with cancer, I’m challenging that reflection. Every comment, every stare, every judgment adds to the conversation we need to have.
I never set out to be “The Topless Runner.” But I’m proud of what it’s become. In 2024, I became the first woman to run the London Marathon topless, setting a Guinness World Record as the fastest female with a double mastectomy. That record has since been broken and I couldn’t be happier. That’s what progress looks like.
Freedom Against the Wind
Running topless isn’t about exhibition. It’s about freedom. It’s the closest I’ve ever felt to my authentic self, the five-year-old girl who ran wild without fear or shame. When I’m out on the Tarka Trail between Braunton and Fremington, it’s like therapy.
I film my runs, not for vanity but for memory. When I feel low, I watch those videos to remind myself of that energy, that joy. It lives in me when I run, but disappears when I try to fit into society’s moulds.
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That’s the tragedy, isn’t it? That we have to fight, run, even lose parts of our bodies just to feel free again. What does that say about our world, our expectations, our idea of womanhood?
Putting Myself First
Before cancer, I believed that being a “good” mother meant putting myself last. My kids came first, my husband next, and I came somewhere after the laundry pile. But cancer taught me something profound: if you don’t put yourself first, life will force you to.
Running isn’t selfish. It’s the most selfless thing I do. When I take care of myself - my whole self, body, mind, soul - I become a better mother, wife, friend, and human. My children don’t need a perfect mother. They need a happy, healthy one who shows them what freedom looks like.
Running Through the Storm
Some days I run under sunshine, others through storms, literally. I’ve run 16 miles in the rain, soaked to the skin, feeling electric, alive. I’ve splashed through puddles like a child. Those are the moments that remind me who I am.
People stare when I pass, topless, filming, scarred. I know it looks strange. But change always looks strange at first. That’s how progress begins. Passion drives me forward: through wind, through judgment, through everything. It’s in my veins now.
The Lesson
Three years ago, I was anxious, hypochondriac, terrified of life. I thought my best years were behind me. Then cancer said: Wake up.
And I did.
My youth is now. My beauty is now. My freedom is now.
So, I run: against the wind, against fear, against expectation, against cancer. I run for you. I run, therefore I can.
Great post. Everyone in my family except me has ADHD (I'm more on the autistic spectrum) so I can understand how running shuts downs the voices.
Re the topless running, go you! Great idea. And it brings up so many questions about how we view our bodies.