By Allison Morrow, CNN
(CNN) — Until a friend casually mentioned trying creatine this past spring, I hadn’t thought much about it — it was stuff I’d long associated with meatheads and a minor scandal involving my high school football team. Then, suddenly, it was everywhere, being talked up by every fitness influencer, mental health guru and powder peddler on the internet.
This is how it usually goes with the wellness industry, that ever-growing multibillion-dollar complex of businesses pushing supplements, remedies and no small amount of snake oil to a health-obsessed swath of society. A vaguely medicinal-sounding powder, pill, or gummy shows up in your TikTok feed one day and rapidly starts multiplying:
Eat more protein. Do not forget fiber. And collagen! Just stir it into your coffee, mama! Just spoon it in your face, eat it. It’s called ~health~ babe. By the way, if you’re not adding organic bovine colostrum to your steel-cut oats, what are you even doing?
Obviously, intellectually, much of the barrage consists of scams. Yet: what if— ? What if this one weird trick really does tackle stubborn belly fat? What if this leaf extract actually is “nature’s Ozempic” at a fraction of the cost?
“‘Wellness’ is a lot like ‘beauty’ or ‘success’ or ‘happiness,’” Annie Wilson, senior lecturer of marketing at the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School, told me. “It makes for a really good marketing term because you can’t define it very well, and you can never have enough or too much of it.”
The pitch for creatine felt especially tailored to me, an elder millennial distance-runner-slash-CrossFit junkie with expendable income: Build muscle! Aid recovery! Improve your mood! The TikToks came in three genres: a woman in her 40s stands in her absurdly well-lit suburban kitchen, scooping powder into a smoothie while citing scientific studies; Peter Attia or Andrew Huberman or some other Internet Guy talking to a podcaster; a jacked weight-lifter, any gender, holding a tub of creatine in a sponsored post. That’s how I found myself, earlier this summer, putting a safe-enough-looking black plastic tub of micronized creatine monohydrate powder in my Amazon cart.
Fitness FOMO
For fellow latecomers: Creatine is a chemical compound humans produce naturally through our liver and kidneys, and it’s also found in meat and dairy. Or you can take in more of it directly, in the form of a popular supplement for building muscle. Maximizing gains, in fitfluencer parlance.
In the past few years, though, studies have suggested supplementing with creatine may also offer a host of other potential benefits, such as combatting depression and improving memory, particularly among women and older people.
Those compelling cognitive health claims have pushed creatine to the top of the pantheon of supplements promising to fix whatever’s broken in you or turbocharge whatever’s good in you. On Amazon, creatine sales were expected to grow 18% in 2024 to more than $424 million, according to data from Jungle Scout.
Just to clear the air: Creatine is not a steroid, though you’d be forgiven for thinking so.
When I told my husband I was buying creatine, he responded with a tinge of alarm: “The stuff Mark McGwire was doing?”
(Doing, like a drug. Not taking, like a vitamin.)
Yes, McGwire, the former home run king with many asterisks to his name, did tell the media in 1998, in the midst of his race with Sammy Sosa to break Roger Maris’s single-season record of 61 home runs, that he’d been consuming creatine to help with muscle recovery. Sportswriters could see it right there in his locker, he wasn’t hiding it. He also copped to takin