Rundefeated

“When gels fail, honey chokes, and Snickers slows you down — meet the humble protein bar that saved my marathon.”

Running a marathon is like voluntarily signing up for a buffet where the only things on the menu are sweat, muscle cramps, and occasional existential dread. Along the way, your body screams for fuel like an old car running on fumes halfway through a cross-country trip. I used to think you just needed water and sheer willpower to survive 42 kilometers. Oh, how innocent I was. Until my first real marathon attempt slapped me with reality and a near blackout at the 30K mark.

Most marathoners swear by energy gels — those tiny, sticky packets filled with concentrated carbohydrates designed to keep you upright and moving. Naturally, I tried them. They taste like melted candy mixed with cough syrup, but they get the job done. The problem is, after the fourth or fifth one, your stomach starts staging a rebellion. I once downed four gels during a race and felt like I’d swallowed industrial glue by the time I reached the final 5K. Sure, I crossed the finish line, but I looked like a dehydrated scarecrow who’d seen things.

Then came honey. It sounds natural, it sounds wholesome, and some online articles even romanticize it as the fuel of ancient Olympians. So, in one bold experiment during a marathon, I squeezed a sachet of honey into my mouth at kilometer 25. Big mistake. Honey is so dense and sticky that unless you have a liter of water ready, it turns your throat into a syrup-coated crime scene. I coughed for a full kilometer and spent the next five desperately trying to wash the stickiness away. Lesson learned: ancient Olympians didn’t have isotonic drinks and energy gels for a reason — they probably just passed out halfway through their events.

At one point, desperate for anything solid, I reached for a Snickers bar. It’s packed with sugar, nuts, and a thick slab of caramel — a delightful treat on a lazy afternoon, but a logistical nightmare mid-race. Halfway through chewing, I realized Snickers demands more jaw work than a family-sized steak. My pace dropped from 5:30/km to 8:00/km while I fought to finish a single bite. By the time I swallowed, I was so exhausted from chewing I nearly missed the water station. Let me tell you, nothing ruins race momentum quite like a mouth full of caramel and peanuts.

And then, the unsung hero appeared: the humble protein bar. I don’t know why nobody talks about this more often. Sure, it was originally designed for post-workout muscle recovery, but it turns out a good, soft, high-carb protein bar can be the perfect fuel during a marathon. It’s easier to chew than a Snickers, more satisfying than a gooey gel, and a thousand times less sticky than honey. Plus, the added protein gives your muscles something to cling to while your glycogen stores evaporate like a politician’s promises.

During my last marathon attempt, I packed two small protein bars in my running belt. I took my first bite at 20K and instantly felt like my spirit animal had returned. It gave me enough energy to avoid the dreaded wall at 30K, and another bite at 35K kept me sharp for the final stretch. I didn’t need to drown myself in water to get it down, and my stomach stayed calm. It was, without a doubt, the smartest mid-run decision I’ve made since switching from cotton shirts to dry-fit.

If only someone had warned me about honey years ago, I might have saved myself from that sticky mess and a near-choking incident. Marathon fueling is personal, sure, but there are some universal truths: never trust ancient energy advice, always test your race nutrition during training, and for the love of your digestive system — choose something your body can handle while in motion. My pick? The protein bar. Simple, effective, and it won’t glue your throat shut when you need to focus on not tripping over your own feet.

Whatever you choose — gels, bars, candy, or something weird your uncle swears by — test it during your long runs. Race day is not the time for experiments. Learn from my mistakes: don’t underestimate how food texture and density matter when you’re panting like a dying horse. And trust me — protein bars deserve a lot more love in the running world. Got your own mid-race fueling horror story? Drop it in the comments. Misery, after all, loves company.