Review : Enduroforce

• Type : Nutrition / hydration
• Use : Running fuel / tonic
• Price : 2,29$ ea. / 22.99$ box

Introduction
When you’re an endurance athlete, it’s really hard to carry your healthy eating habits into your running fuel and hydration needs. A vast majority of foods, drinks and supplements use highly-refined sugars, such as maltodextrin or glucose-fructose, to trick your body into high gear. For health-conscious endurance enthusiasts, this is less than optimal, to say the least.

Thankfully, there are a growing number of endurance fuels which use only natural ingredients, starting of course with Mas Korima, a collaborative enterprise I’m very proud to be a part of. There are also other new and innovative products out there, and Enduroforce is definitely one of them.

Enduroforce uses maple syrup and spirulina, mixed with sea buckthorn and ginseng. That’s it. Four natural ingredients, nothing else. I like that a lot and, after sampling the product, got enthusiastic about its effects, too.

Testing
The idea behind Enduroforce is to be a tonic, a natural stimulant that forgoes the use of caffeine and taurine and that helps maximize endurance. The ingredient mix is rich in antioxydants, vitamins and minerals, comes in a tiny dose of 15ml and still packs 40 calories and a gram of protein.

Upon trying it the first time, I was expecting a boost comparable to the use of a gel, or maybe like a shot of espresso. This is not at all the effect of the product. It didn’t change much in my intensity; what it did is to increase my awareness and focus, and mostly to rid me of the impression of fatigue while I’m running. It’s a subtle effect, but an important one when going on multiple-hour endurance runs.

Compared to a straight shot of maple syrup (which is what I now use as a gel replacement as well as the sweetener for my pinole mix), Enduroforce doesn’t pack a big punch, and I don’t think it’s its intended purpose either. As a tonic, it brings a balanced shot of stimulation, nutrition and supplementation that really starts to shine in the long run.

Taken 45 minutes before effort, then subsequently about every 2 hours, Enduroforce maintains my energy and focus and decreases my perceived effort without playing yo-yo with my sugar levels.

Analysis
Taste-wise, Enduroforce takes a bit of getting used to. Personally, I don’t mind an “exotic” taste, as long as it’s not too strong or pungent. I won’t go as far as saying Enduroforce tastes good, but I got used to it pretty quickly and the fact that it’s fully natural weights a lot in my personal balance.

My biggest qualm about it is the strange little package it comes in. It’s a small plastic tube with a break-off tip which isn’t easy to manipulate at first. Furthermore, when you’ve used the tubes, they often drip into running vest’s pockets and leave a sticky little mess. Lastly, I’m not a big fan of single-use plastic and would love an option of a large container and reusable screw-top type “shots” to save on trash and skip the mess all at once.

Conclusion
In my opinion, Enduroforce is a good element in an endurance nutrition mix for the health-conscious athlete who wants to steer clear from the chemicals and highly-processed compounds that make up most fuels out there. Used side-by-side with your liquid and solid nutrition of choice (Andale! pinole and Korimalitas energy bites in my case), it can help you perform well without a nagging feeling of constant effort.

High points

• Fully natural
• 4 ingredients. Period.
• A tonic that keeps you going
• Mitigates fatigue and perceived effort

Low points

• Break-tip containers are finicky
• Empty tubes are messy
• Single-use plastic

The material for this personal review was supplied by Leo Desilets / Enduroforce free of charge. Disclosure: I am part of Enduroforce’s ambassador team.

Jim Walmsley is a Champion

Canyon de Chelly, last fall. I had just finished setting up my little dirtbag camp (sleeping in the back of a rental Ford Escape with The Dragonfly) in beautiful Navajo country when a car pulled in our spot. It was pitch dark, and some guy stuck his face out the driver’s window and asked “Is it OK if I park it here?”.

“Sure.”

Two guys stepped out and we shook hands. “Hey, I’m Jim.” “Hi, I’m Myke.” And that was pretty much it. They got set up in the back of their car, just like us, cooked a little bit of dinner, and came to sit down at the Miller’s Casitalita. And you know what was really special about it all? Absolutely nothing.

We all took a seat and started chatting among ourselves. I found out that “Myke” was a photographer, that he traveled quite a bit, and that he documented Jim’s runs. My friend Nico was there too, and it was cool to spend a little time and have a beer before the grand day tomorrow, one of the most amazing runs an ultra runner could wish for. Everyone shared stories and like every eve before an epic ultra, it was relaxed and fun.

Walking back to our car, Julie told me “Wow, that guy I was talking with, Jim, turns out he’s just ran a world-record Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim just a couple days ago.” I had actually sort of met him before, running Mesquite Canyon in Arizona. He flew down a trail at an impressive speed, and I thought he really looked like Scott Jurek with his curly hair and his long legs. Julie was impressed. “He’s just this super casual dude”, she said, “He didn’t mention anything about his feat until I started asking questions.” Champions tend to do that, I thought to myself.

The next day started before sunrise as we made our way down to the sacred fire and shared the Dag’ha ceremonies, where elders and tribe members help prepare the runners for the long day ahead. I asked Nico where Jim was. “Oh, he’s just here for the experience”, he replied. “He’s not running today.”

I wished him good luck on what would turn out to be a pretty fantastic day for him (Nico flew like the wind and won the 2016 run) and set out on my own adventure with Julie, who was experiencing her very first ultra. It was an amazing day for us, too.

At the midpoint, atop the magnificent canyon after a tough climb, I got into the aid station with 1,000 things on my mind. Two hands eagerly extended at me. “Dude, do you have any trash I can take care of?” I lifted my eyes and there he was. “Are you eating well? Have you got enough to drink?”. Jim Walmsley was helping runners out at the aid station, and he wanted to take my trash to the garbage can. He was happy and excited and dedicated and he made me so proud of my sport.

“When was the last time you saw a sports superstar take care of some random guy’s trail trash and make sure he’s doing OK?”, I remember telling Julie, on the way back. A real champion will do that, I again reflected.

I never told this story until today, because I’m convinced Jim didn’t do this to get publicity or gratification. I’m convinced he did it out of his love for running and to share a special moment with the people who, he knows, “get it”.

So when some of these running people started speaking negatively of him after the Western States last weekend, it really bugged me. They accuse him of being brash. They find weaknesses in his strategy. They say all sorts of things, from the comfort of their little certainties, like they’ve had a front-row seat to Jim’s career all along.

The same people who would have written the exact opposite, should Jim have made it and won the race and smashed a course record. They would have lauded his boldness, they would have talked about every little bit that he’d done right. And that, too, is pissing me off.

I’ll be first to say, I don’t know Jim Walmsley that well. But I’m the kind of person for whom actions speak louder than words. And after seeing how he behaves and the respect he’s garnered from many ultra runners in the community I know and love, I’m taking his defense and I’m standing with him.

He went out there and he gave Western States his absolute best shot. He was convinced he could win, and he was unafraid to say it. And maybe some people didn’t notice, but he’s also unafraid to talk about despair and depression, of failing and mistakes, even of wanting to die. And then finding a way. Champions tend to do that, too.

I salute Jim for his bold attempt last weekend, as I salute every single one of us out there who builds up the passion and the determination to tackle ridiculously long distances in difficult environments with no certainty of success, yet who goes at it nonetheless. There will always be some naysaying bystanders to hit someone when they’re down. Often, they will also be the flip-floppers who will turn around and sing the praises of the same person when they actually succeed. I hope their words are as meaningless and inconsequential either way, to the people subjected to them.

After so many hours of training and sacrifice and dedication, ALL Western States runners, from Cat Bradley to Jim to that last person to cross the finish line to those who didn’t even make it to the start but tried, deserve a well-earned congratulations, a recognition of their hard work and some words of encouragement to keep going, to keep pushing the limits and to keep living this life to the fullest.

The bystanders are all the same to me. And I don’t care what they think.

Jim Walmsley’s a champion.



Photo credit : Myke Hermsmeyer

*** EDIT ***

I very rarely come back and edit a post, but I feel like this is important. Myke Hermsmeyer actually sent me a photo (that I didn't know existed!) of the exact moment depicted in my article. 

So here it is, Jim being a trail angel to my absolute nobody self, atop Canyon de Chelly :)

A New Partnership

You all know that I’m involved in Mas Korima, as a means to support our Raramuri friends in facing the advance of the modern world onto their remote wilderness home, but also with the aim of bettering my endurance nutrition using natural ingredients.

I’ve been extensively using Korimalitas as my running fuel of choice, and I make liquid nutrition out of Andale! pinole powder and maple syrup. So when my friend Jack introduced me to a new type of endurance tonic based on maple syrup, using only natural ingredients and free from caffeine and taurine, it was an instant natural fit.

I started using Enduroforce last year, and quickly became a fan of its energy-boosting effects. It only uses 4 ingredients; ginseng, maple syrup, sea buckthorn and spirulina. No head rush, no buzz, no crash. Just a nice cocktail of superfoods I start my long days with and use about every 4-5 hours along the way.

Well, it seems Enduroforce liked me back and has offered to make me a brand ambassador :)

So whenever you meet me in running events and on the trails, don’t hesitate to snatch a vial or two from me and to give Enduroforce a try. I think it’s an excellent, natural endurance supplement well worth checking out!




I’ll be writing some more in-depth analysis of the product itself and its ingredients as I keep using it this season. In the meantime, you can access full product info right here.

Ancient Memories

We are well aware of the world outside. It bustles, hums and swirls around us every day. But there’s another world, a little more secret, a little more hidden, within each one of us. A world that’s alive with our breath and blood, but also with our thoughts, our spirit and our soul.

Buried deep inside of us lies a true wonder. We are discovering that our cells, the very fabric of our beings, are coded, like an immense library describing what we are (living beings, animals, mammals of the human type), who we are (genes, biometrics) and where we came from (DNA). I believe this library holds much, much more.

There’s a reason why there are things we instinctively know. There’s an explanation for reflexes, for innate talents and for instant connections with unknown places or people. Science calls it evolution. I say it’s cellular memory.

No matter how you look at it, it seems that each individual in a lineage, over the course of time, changes and adapts. This is true for humans, as it is for plants, animals and all living beings. In order to do this, two things are required; the ability to modify one’s self and memory of what was before and of what is being carried on. If not, evolution would be nothing but an infinity of very short dead ends.

So what does that tell us? That we carry a treasure. That we contain not only organs and a spirit, but also knowledge of all that has happened before until this point. This, by the way, also means that we know a little less than our children and those who come after us.

This knowledge is written within for us to discover and explore, as we do with the outside world. Every time we go somewhere, meet someone or perform something and get that instantaneous feeling that all things are right and in order, that we are “in the zone”, that we follow the flow, we’re actually receiving a message from our own selves.

Then, since we have the ability to change, we make choices. We take action. We trigger things inside of us that influence our own body, our mind and, ultimately, our destiny. We are the vectors of our own evolution and of that of others as well. In the end, each and every one of us is a vector for the evolution of the world.

Discovering this great truth leads to a very important realization; we are all connected. From the pebble to the insect to the stars in the sky and everything in between, nothing is alone. Everything is together. We are a part of a complete, connected Whole, whose ancient memory is written within ourselves. And it is our goal to act as a part of this whole, in a humble, respectful, responsible, and constructive manner.

Each time my feet meet the ground and I feel the drum of my own rhythm inside my body as I run, I am reminded of this great, amazing truth and I am drawn ever more to open myself to Ancient Memory, to connect to others and to feel from every fiber of my being the most important thing there is to know in this world.

We Are One.

Growing Feet... At 41

This is the weirdest thing.

My sabbatical year, as you can figure by now, was devoted to running and enjoying outdoor adventures. Throughout this awesome time, I have gained several benefits from the increased mileage and number of races I've enjoyed. During my travel time alone, I have now completed 16 ultras and several other running adventures.

The benefits range from excellent health (My cholesterol was recently measured at 4.10, which I'm told is exceptionally good - and I don't come from a good family background) to great immune resistance to increased fitness and a recovery capability I'd never dreamed of. Needless to say, I'm pretty stoked.

But my increased running seems to have had another, totally unbelievable consequence, too. My feet have grown a size and a half! How is that even possible?

I started running, a couple years ago, as a size 7. I have to say, after about a year, I started buying size 7.5 shoes, but I thought I was just getting to like more toe room (I'm not a big fan of black toes). But as my sabbatical year went and I replaced or bought new shoes, I found myself getting size 8, then 8.5... up to the point that I am now a size 9!

This isn't some kind of subjective matter; the shoes I had originally brought on this trip (that didn't end up getting worn to shreds or donated) literally don't fit me anymore. Even the new shoes I bought earlier on the trip are too tight and ended up in the donations pile.

Am I the only one? Did I trigger some sort of dormant gene that awakens after a couple thousand miles and transforms our feet to suit our running needs better? I have to say, I'm dumbfounded.




Qui aurait cru que nos pieds peuvent grandir et changer de forme?! À 41 ans, après un an de course intensif, ma pointure de souliers a augmenté d'un point et demi!

Fuego Y Agua 50K – Jungle Madness

Josue Stephens is not normal. He imagines and designs courses to chew runners up and spit them out, to yank them out of their comfort zone and into dangerous, difficult, uncertain predicaments that will leave them huffing and panting, doubting themselves, looking at each other, bug-eyed, in total disbelief. 30 minutes in.

Where any other race director would fence a rough area out with caution tape, Josue flags it with trail markers, making sure you go through every quick mud pit, thorny bush and steep cliff he can find. Then, he'll run it himself and change it, because he found a new way to make it more challenging. He admittedly aims for high drop rates and would consider his race an absolute failure if everybody finished. His slogans leave little to guess about his philosophy; «Adapt or Die» and «Challenge your Body, Discover your Soul».

Welcome to adventure running. This is ultra, without the training wheels.

The truth is, Josue Stephens is on to something. As one of the very first survival run conceptors, he developed a strong reputation of creating challenges at the very edge of the strongest contestants' mental and physical capabilities. But this has also spilled over his ultra races, and I think he has created a new breed of long distance events that include much more than running a course.

The terrains he makes you travel are not, by definition, ultra material. At Hunter – Gatherer, earlier this year, about 65% of the way was trailless, absolute bushwhack. This time around, Ometepe redefined both my definitions of steep and runnable.

Concepciòn, the fire part
of Fuego Y Agua

The race starts at water level, on the beach of Lake Nicaragua. Less than 3 little miles to warm up, and you're already at the skirt of the 4,575-foot Maderas volcano, an imposing mountain covered in rain forest. My starting strategy was hard to establish; as much as I usually love to begin my races at the back of the pack, I knew that I wouldn't have a lot of room to move forward in the column of runners. That meant if I was around people too slow for me, my ascent would be long and miserable. Of course, that also meant if I went too far ahead, I'd be slowing down others behind me, and that would stress me out and exert me, because I would try to keep a rhythm unsustainable for my abilities.

I picked a spot close to the end of the pack, but not completely. I drew a mental line between the ones I thought would start out running and those who would walk. We took off and, although I was focusing on taking it very easy, I started to slowly move up the line. When the first uphills came about, I decided to keep running, although slowly, and passed more people who'd preferred to walk.

The trail head to Maderas came quickly, and I didn't stop at the aid station. This put me ahead of the pack a little more, and I was delighted to see that the column I was in on the single track moved exactly at my speed. This took a huge weight off my shoulders, so I spent the early ascent enjoying the company of my fellow runners and glancing at the magnificent jungle trees waking up in the early daylight.

Less than a third of the way up, the trail starts to change from steep to steeper, and you know it won't get any easier any time soon. So the best strategy is to smile and embrace, and I took great joy in my climb. I felt great and I was excited with what laid ahead.

The cloud forest on Maderas

When the treeline starts to switch to a cloud forest, a permanent mist starts surrounding you and everything becomes wet and cooler. The immediate effect is visible on the trail, which changes from rocky, beaten earth to a muddy, slippery path meandering through enormous tree roots sticking out of the ground. This is where you stop using only your legs to propel you forward. The trail is so steep that you need to use your hands to grab on roots and tree trunks and yank yourself up, effectively transforming the run into a full-body workout.

The further up you go, the wetter things become, until you are literally ankle-deep in wet, sloppy mud and you start wondering if this is an ultra run or a figure skating event. My morale was way up, as I laughed my way through the insanely dirty, twisty mud river of a path unfolding before me. Reactions from the other runners around me varied widely, from absolute bafflement to exhilaration. This, definitely, was not your everyday ultra.

When the climb finally leveled a little bit, the trail quickly disappeared under massive fallen trees, whose roots and branches covered everything and forced us to weave our way through, carefully placing our feet on the ultra-slippery wet wood, twisting, rolling over and grabbing anything me could to not tumble down crashing. My heartbeat pounded from excitement more than effort, and I thought this was by far the craziest trail I'd ever been on.

Dirt in your... shoes

That was before hitting the crater on top, and its aid station. The brave volunteers there had to hike the volcano at night to be there before us, carrying heavy backpacks of food and supplies only to get there and stand in the cold, rainy, windy valley for hours on end. My friend Peter was up there, and I thoroughly hugged him and thanked him before taking off.

Thinking I would run down from that point, it only surprised me more to get to a rock face, a mere couple hundred feet away from the aid station. I stood there for a second, facing the pure, vertical, mud-covered wall and wondering where in the race briefing I had missed the part about the importance of being a rock climber. Doubtful I would even make it to the first of several ledges, I started grabbing and pulling and pushing. To my great astonishment and delight, I was able to climb at a decent speed and get a grip on very little steps (thank you, Saucony Kinvara Trail!). With a grin now larger than my face, I put my heart into it and heaved and ho'ed until I could stand vertically on my two feet again.

Wheeeeee!

Now several hundred feet above the crater, I went on to the next challenge, called the Jungle Gym. It's actually quite impossible to describe it accurately, and chances are you simply wouldn't believe me. But let's try anyway.

Take the steepest downhill single track you can imagine. Drench it in permanent rain and mist, until it becomes no less than a 2- to 18-inch deep river of slick volcanic mud. Now slam the trees down so either their branches, their roots or a combination of both block the trail completely, forcing you to climb up and through as you descend pitches sometimes higher than yourself. This stuff, I yelled to the runner behind me, makes Indiana Jones look like a prissy wimp. It is raw, it is dirty, it is hard, and it is the absolute best trail segment I have ever been on in my entire running life. Pure adventure.

And so I monkeyed on for several hours, finally coming down Maderas ecstatic, filthy and absolutely elated. I had successfully ran up a volcano, bushwhacked through the jungle, rock climbed a muddy cliff wall, sloshed through knee-deep mud pits and snaked through a forest of slick branches and roots. I felt like Tarzan. On steroids.

The Jungle Gym, nothing short of epic

I emerged out of the trail and onto a road, made a quick stop at the aid station and went on my way. I expected to follow the rock-covered dirt road for a while, then swerve off some trails and be back again, maybe skirting the fresh pebble beach by the lake. I was probably already delirious and forgot that this is a Josue Stephens race, where every segment presents a challenge. I called this one the slow-roast.

As the miles were piling almost as much as the mid-day degrees, I eventually realized there would be no fun segment off that road and not much shade to shelter me from the blistering tropical heat. Runners around me slowly turned into zombies, and I knew I didn't look too good myself. I got kinda bitchy, too, which is out of character. But I couldn't help it. After the high on the volcano, that was an unexpected, unwanted low point and I felt like I wasn't about to come out of it.

Luckily, I got to the next aid station just in time to stumble upon my friend Margaret, who didn't look in any better mood than I did. So we joked about it, I pulled her by the sleeve and, nodding back at the road, suggested we «get the fuck outta here».

On the home stretch

Margarita, as I affectionately called her that day, kept my mind together. My poor friend had to endure much more whining and moaning than I care to admit, and I'm not proud to have lost my positive attitude somewhere along that dusty, rocky road. But there was no avoiding it; although I understood this, too, was a challenge, I was hating it and would've gladly turned my heels around and done the volcano a second time instead.

With half-fried brains and not much kick in our step, Margaret and I covered what felt like a mammoth distance, a little over 30k of unadulterated misery. But eventually, like all things, if you keep at it, you'll see the end. After hours of great conversation, all-time lows and great laughs, too, Margarita nudged me and nodded her head to a chalk arrow on the road, pointing back down to the beach. It gave me wings.

We kicked up the pace and started running, picking up our friend Ian on the way and trying to coax Zoli and a nice Brit girl I'd ran with earlier to join us for the last bout. As the finish gate was approaching, I reflected on a day filled with a mix of absolute elation and total misery, and how that run had made me go through so much. And helped me get a little better. A little bit like life. A little bit like challenging myself, to see what comes out on the other side. That's what Josue's on to. Adventure running.

He throws in the crazy running.

You live a real adventure.

Josue Stephens n'est pas un organisateur de course ordinaire. Il réfute les limites habituelles de sécurité et de confort et vous précipite dans une vraie aventure, avec ses défis, ses dangers et ses remises en question. Vous en ressortez invariablement épuisé, ébahi... et transformé.