Somehow we are still having the “candy as fuel” conversation like it’s brand new, and every time it pops up it follows the same script.
Someone posts a fun snack. The comments cheer. Someone else says “real food is better.” A third person swears they fueled their last long run on dates and vibes. And then three weeks later, those same runners are in my DMs or comment sections asking why their stomach imploded at mile 18 and why they hit a wall despite “fueling consistently.”
This is not a mystery. This is math, physiology, and logistics refusing to be ignored.
I love candy. I love real food. I do not love pretending that things which technically contain carbohydrates automatically convert into marathon performance. At some point we have to move from internet algebra to actual PRs.
Why Elites Aren’t Racing With Gummy Clusters and Dates
Let’s get this out of the way early.
We do not see elites fueling with Nerds Gummy Clusters, dates, or pocket sandwiches. Not because they’re joyless or sponsored into submission, but because elite racing is an efficiency problem. They are running at intensities where digestion is already compromised and there is zero room for guesswork.
If candy and high fiber real food were truly optimal at race intensity, elites would be using them. They’re not. They’re hitting carb targets through drink mixes and gels because predictable absorption beats “this worked on my long run once” every time.
That’s not elitism. That’s pattern recognition.
The Carb Math That Breaks the Spell
Performance fueling lives around 60–90 grams of carbs per hour. For an average five hour marathoner, that’s 300–450 grams across the race.
When you translate that into candy or high fiber foods, the illusion breaks immediately.
Hundreds of Sour Patch Kids. Dozens of Swedish Fish. Thirty plus dates. Seventeen Uncrustables.
At this point you’re not fueling, you’re catering. All of this has to be carried, handled, not dropped, chewed, swallowed, and digested while your body is actively pulling blood away from your gut because you are, in fact, running a marathon.
No amount of positive thinking changes this math.
No, They Don’t Magically Cover Electrolytes Either
This is where someone inevitably says, “But these have sodium too.”
Sure. Technically. In the same way a garden hose technically hydrates a wildfire.
Candy and real food options contain trace electrolytes. Trace. Not race-day amounts. And they’re wildly inconsistent. You cannot reliably hit sodium targets while also hitting carb targets using candy unless you are simultaneously running an advanced spreadsheet in your head and licking salt packets like a raccoon.
Electrolyte needs are separate from carb needs. Trying to solve both with gummy candy is how people end up underfueled, underhydrated, cramping, and still convinced they did everything right.
Algebra still does not equal PRs.
No, You Are Still Not Carrying Seventeen Sandwiches
“But I’ll unwrap everything and carry it in my hydration vest.”
I love the confidence. I hate the follow through.
Where exactly are seventeen sandwiches living during a road marathon. How are they not becoming warm, smashed, soggy regret by mile 10. How are you eating them at race pace without stopping or questioning your life choices.
Even candy has limits. Sticky hands. Melted pieces. Dropped fuel bouncing into the street. Missed intake because your hands are busy grabbing cups or your stomach is already overwhelmed. Every dropped piece is fuel you planned but never consumed, which means your math was wrong before the GI distress even started.
Fiber, Fat, and the Fast Track to GI Distress
Fiber does not fuel you during a run. It slows gastric emptying. Fat and protein slow digestion. Volume increases fullness. Stress hormones reduce blood flow to the GI system.
Stack those together and suddenly everyone is shocked that runners feel bloated, crampy, nauseous, or urgently aware of every port-o-potty on the course.
Dates are a great food. Thirty to forty five dates during a marathon is not resilience. It’s a gastrointestinal science fair project with a very predictable conclusion.
And when runners realize forcing this feels awful, they do the other thing. They underfuel. Blood sugar drops. Stress hormones spike. Digestion gets worse. Then the story becomes “I just have GI issues” instead of “this fueling plan does not scale.”
Where Candy Does Belong (Because Yes, It Has a Place)
Now, before someone takes this personally and throws a gummy bear at their screen, let’s be clear.
Candy can be useful. Strategically.
Shorter runs where total carb demand is low. Easy runs where you’re just topping things off. Speed sessions where you want quick, simple carbs and a mental cue. Counting reps with candy, one piece per interval, can actually work beautifully. It scratches the sweet itch, keeps things fun, and doesn’t overload the system.
Candy can also be a bridge. It helps runners who are scared of gels get used to taking in carbs during runs. It can reduce the psychological friction of fueling, which is real and valid.
But candy is a supplement, not a system.
It can support a fueling strategy. It is not a fueling strategy by itself. The moment you ask it to carry the full load of a long run or race, it breaks down under its own volume, fiber, and logistical chaos.
Long Runs Are Rehearsals, Not Fantasy Camps
Long runs are where you practice race day. Pace, hydration, fueling, all of it. If something works on a 45 minute run and falls apart at two and a half hours, that’s not bad luck. That’s feedback.
Trail environments can hide some of this. Slower pace. Longer aid stations. More tolerance for solids. Even there, most experienced trail runners still lean heavily on drink mix and gels because efficiency matters when fatigue stacks up.
Why Boring Fuel Keeps Winning
Engineered fuels exist because they solve a very specific problem.
Low fiber. Low residue. Predictable absorption. Minimal chewing. Consistent electrolyte delivery. You can hit carb and sodium targets without turning fueling into a second job or turning your GI system into a crime scene.
This isn’t about banning candy or real food. It’s about using them where they make sense and not pretending they’re something they’re not.
Fuel is a tool. Not a personality trait.
If your fueling plan requires a charcuterie board and a spreadsheet, it might be time to simplify.
Fuel boring. Race strong. Eat the candy when you’re done.
If reading this made you realize your fueling plan is basically vibes and pocket snacks, you don’t need more hot takes. You need a system.
My Fuel Like You Mean It guide walks you through how to actually fuel long runs and races without wrecking your gut. Carb targets that make sense, electrolyte guidance that scales, and practical setups that don’t require a charcuterie board or a spreadsheet. It’s built for real runners training in the real world, not elite hypotheticals or Instagram fantasies.
And if fueling has already gone sideways and you’re dealing with low energy, stalled progress, or that constant “something feels off” feeling, the LEA Protocol digs into what’s actually happening under the hood. Underfueling doesn’t always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like chronic fatigue, slow recovery, and GI issues that never quite resolve.
The LEA Guide helps you connect the dots between training load, fueling, hormones, and recovery so you can stop guessing and start rebuilding.
Fueling FAQs (Because I Can Hear the Comments Forming)
“But what about chews?”
Chews are closer to gels than they are to candy, but they’re still not magic. They’re engineered to be low fiber and predictable, which is good. The downside is still volume and chewing. When fatigue sets in, chewing becomes annoying fast. That’s why a lot of runners start strong with chews and then quietly stop taking them late in the race.
They can absolutely be part of a fueling plan. They work well early. They work better when paired with a drink mix so you’re not relying on chewing alone to hit carb targets. If chews are your jam, great. Just don’t expect them to carry the entire load for a long race by themselves.
“What about trail ultras? Real food works there.”
Yes. And also… context matters.
Trail racing usually means lower intensity, more walking, longer aid station stops, and more tolerance for solids. That makes room for things like potatoes, soup, waffles, and even candy. But notice what experienced trail runners still rely on heavily: drink mix, gels, and liquid calories.
Even in ultras, real food is layered in. It’s not the foundation. When runners try to go full charcuterie for 8–12 hours, GI distress still shows up. The difference is they’re just moving slow enough to survive it.
So yes, real food can play a bigger role on trails. No, that doesn’t mean it magically becomes a great standalone fueling strategy.
“Gels make me gag.”
Totally fair. You are not broken.
This is usually a training issue, not a personal failing. A lot of runners try gels without enough water, try them too late, or only try them when they’re already underfueled and stressed. Of course that feels terrible.
This is where drink mixes shine. You can spread carb intake out, control concentration, and reduce that thick, sticky mouthfeel that turns people off gels. You can also rotate textures. Gel early, drink mix consistently, maybe something solid very early if it sits well.
Fueling doesn’t have to be all or nothing. It just has to be intentional.
“But I fueled with candy once and felt fine.”
I believe you. I also believe that run didn’t ask much of your system.
Short runs are forgiving. Easy runs are forgiving. Feeling fine once doesn’t mean something scales. The question isn’t “did this work one time,” it’s “does this work when intensity, duration, heat, and fatigue stack up.”
Race day is not the place to find out the answer.
“Isn’t some fuel better than none?”
Yes. And also, underfueling consistently is one of the fastest ways to create GI distress, not avoid it.
When carb intake is too low, blood sugar drops. Stress hormones rise. Blood flow gets pulled away from the gut. Digestion suffers. Then even foods that normally feel fine suddenly don’t.
This is why “I get GI issues late in races” is often an underfueling story, not a sensitive stomach story.
“So what’s the actual takeaway?”
Candy is not evil. Real food is not evil. Gels are not evil. Drink mix is not a corporate conspiracy.
Fueling works best when it’s boring, repeatable, and practiced. Candy can live in the strategy. It just can’t be the strategy.
If your plan requires heroic chewing, complex math, or carrying an amount of food that would qualify as catering, it’s probably not the right plan for race day.
Fuel in a way that lets you focus on running, not surviving your stomach.
Fuel boring. Race strong. Eat the candy when you’re done.