SNG - Sports Nutrition Group

10/05/2026

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04/05/2026

04/05/2026

Where’s the Sun Gone? Vitamin D Deficiency & My Disappearing Motivation

By Craig Wood

The sun seems like a distant memory.

I’m not even convinced it was real at this point. Lanzarote feels like a dream I once had — a warm, happy place where I bounced out of bed, trained like a hero, and convinced myself I was a professional athlete.

Now?

I wake up, look outside, and it’s just… grey.

Not even interesting grey.
Just flat, miserable, “why bother” grey.

The Great British Motivation Thief

Let’s be honest.

The sun doesn’t just give you light — it gives you:

Motivation
Energy
Hope
The illusion you’re fitter than you are

Take it away, and what are you left with?

A man standing in the kitchen at 4am, staring into a coffee, wondering where it all went wrong.

Vitamin D: The Unsung Hero

I’ve now reached the point where my main source of sunlight is:

A tablet.

That’s it.

One small capsule pretending to be the sun.

I take it and think:
“This will fix everything.”

It doesn’t.

I’m still tired.
Still pale.
Still questioning whether I need a second breakfast.

But mentally, it helps.

Placebo or not, I’m clinging to it like it’s a performance-enhancing drug.

The Death of Motivation

In Lanzarote:
“Let’s ride 130km and film it.”

In the UK:
“Let’s sit down and think about riding.”

There’s a big difference.

The alarm goes off at 4am and instead of jumping up, I lie there negotiating with myself like a hostage situation.

“You don’t have to train today.”
“It’s probably still cold anyway.”
“You could double up tomorrow.”

We all know how that ends.

You don’t double up tomorrow.

You just feel worse.

Winter’s Over… Apparently

Here’s the biggest lie we’re told:

“Winter’s finished.”

Is it though?

Because it doesn’t feel finished.

We’re stuck in that awkward middle ground where:

It’s not freezing
But it’s definitely not warm
The sun occasionally shows up… just to tease you
You still don’t trust leaving the house without three layers

Summer feels like it’s still about six months away, even when the calendar says otherwise.

It’s like the UK is stuck buffering.

The Body Knows

Here’s the real issue.

Without the sun:

Muscles feel tighter
Energy drops
Sleep feels off
Motivation disappears

You’re doing the same sessions…

But everything feels harder.

Not physically impossible.

Just… heavier.

Like someone’s quietly turned gravity up.

The Battle Is Different Now

This time of year isn’t about peak performance.

It’s about not completely falling apart.

Some days, the win isn’t:

A PB
A perfect session
Or smashing intervals

It’s just:

Turning up.

Getting on the bike.
Going out the door.
Doing something.

Even if it feels average.

The Small Wins Matter More

Because when the sun disappears…

So does the easy motivation.

What’s left is:

Habit
Discipline
Stubbornness

Some days I’m not training because I want to.

I’m training because I know if I don’t… I’ll regret it.

Holding It Together (Just About)

This is where the basics matter more than ever:

Keep fueling properly (even when you just want biscuits)
Keep moving (even when you don’t want to)
Keep showing up (even when it feels pointless)

And yes…

SNG Endure still plays its part.

Because when energy is low and motivation is lower, the last thing you need is to completely fall apart mid-session.

At least if the legs have something in them, you’ve got a chance.

Final Thought

The sun will come back.

Eventually.

Probably.

Until then, it’s less about being a triathlon god and more about being:

A slightly tired, slightly pale, but still moving endurance athlete.

And honestly?

That’s enough.

Now if you’ll excuse me…

I’m off to take my Vitamin D tablet and pretend it’s a week in Lanzarote.

— Craig 🩷🖤

19/04/2026

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11/04/2026

From Dad Bod to Triathlon God: The Magic of Warm Weather Training (and Meta Glasses)

By Craig Wood

Last week I spent five days in my favourite place on earth:

Lanzarote.

Now let me explain something.

I boarded the plane in Manchester as:

Slightly tired
Mildly overweight
Coffee-dependent
Questioning life choices

I stepped off that same plane four hours later as:

A chiselled triathlon god.

Or at least… that’s what I believed.

The Transformation (Somewhere Over Europe)

Something happens on that flight.

You sit there, drifting in and out of sleep, eating snacks you didn’t even want but accepted anyway… and your brain starts whispering:

“You’ve leaned out.”
“You’re moving well.”
“You could podium here.”

By the time we land, I’m mentally sponsored.

Reality?
Still carrying a man bag, dragging a bike box, and being reminded by my wife:

“This is a family holiday.”

Yes. Of course. Family holiday.

First Ride: God Mode Activated

Bike built. Kit on.

Out the door.

Within 10 minutes:

“I am absolutely flying.”

Hammering through the lava fields like I’m being chased, blaming the fact I’m only this fast on the road bike:

“If I had my TT bike, this would be illegal.”

First ride done:

100km.

Naturally followed by a 12k run the next day, because Lanzarote Craig doesn’t negotiate — he delivers.

Sunshine Is Basically Doping

Back home, I wake up like a broken man.

In Lanzarote?

I bounce out of bed.

No alarm trauma.
No internal negotiation.
No “I’ll do it later” lies.

Just straight up:

“Let’s go again.”

The sun hits different.

It’s like:

Instant motivation
Free serotonin
Built-in confidence

In the UK, I need three coffees and a pep talk just to function.

In Lanzarote, I’m ready to race the postman.

Day Two: Meta Glasses & Main Character Energy

Second ride:

130km.

This time… I’ve got the Meta glasses on.

And this is where things get dangerous.

Now I’m not just riding.

I’m:

Talking to my glasses
Sending voice notes mid-climb
Filming myself like I’m in a documentary

At one point I genuinely thought:

“Netflix could use this.”

By the end of the ride:

500 videos
500 photos
47 unnecessary updates

Meta definitely knew me better than my wife at this point.

“Craig, you’ve climbed 1800m today.”
“Yes Meta, I know… I’m a machine.”

Carb Loading… Not Overeating

Now let’s address the most important part of any warm-weather training block:

Nutrition.

Or as I like to call it:

Strategic carb loading.

This is not overeating.

This is fuelling.

There is a difference.

Massive paella?
Fuel.

Extra bread?
Also fuel.

Calamari starter, main, and “just a few more”?
Recovery protocol.

Dessert?
Glycogen top-up.

At no point am I overeating.

I am simply preparing my body for the next ride.

Even if that ride is 14 hours away and I’ve already eaten enough for a small village.

The Real Secret: Not Blowing Up

Jokes aside, the reason I could actually back up these sessions:

SNG Endure.

Because Lanzarote doesn’t mess about.

You get the heat wrong, the fueling wrong, or the hydration wrong… and you’re crawling home questioning everything.

With Endure:

Slow-release carbs = steady energy (no spikes, no crashes)
Electrolytes = no cramping halfway up a climb
Less need to “panic eat” everything in sight post-ride

Which meant I could:

Ride hard
Recover properly
And still justify the paella

Balance.

The Delusion Is Real (And I’m Keeping It)

For five days, I wasn’t:

The tired UK version
The biscuit negotiator
The 4am alarm victim

I was:

Lanzarote Craig.

Riding strong.
Training consistently.
Talking to sunglasses like it’s normal behaviour.

Back to the UK… Unfortunately

Then you come home.

Grey skies.
Cold wind.
Wet roads.

And suddenly:

The triathlon god becomes a mortal again
The bounce becomes a groan
The paella becomes regret

But here’s the thing.

That version of you?

It’s still in there.

You just need:

A bit of sun
A bit of consistency
And slightly fewer “carb loading” incidents
Final Thought

Warm weather doesn’t magically make you fitter.

But it does remind you what it feels like when:

Training flows
Energy is there
And everything just clicks

Even if you do come back 2kg heavier from “fuelling properly”.

Totally worth it.

— Craig 🩷🖤

29/03/2026

The Dreaded FTP Test: Pain, Paranoia & 307 Watts of Redemption

By Craig Wood

Yesterday was the day.

The one every endurance athlete secretly hates with a passion…
…but also weirdly looks forward to like some kind of fitness ma*****st.

The FTP test.

The Build-Up: Mental Breakdown Before You Even Start

All sorts goes through your head before you even touch the bike:

“Have I got slower?”
“Those biscuits last month have ruined everything.”
“This is going to be a disaster.”
“All that training… for this?”
“Maybe I don’t even like triathlon.”
“Maybe I’ll just quit and take up golf.”

Standard pre-test confidence.

The Setup: Wife Evacuation Protocol

You drag yourself onto the bike.

Fan on.
Towel down.
Bottle ready.

My wife quietly leaves the room… but not fully.

She’s hovering nearby.

Listening.

Waiting.

For the inevitable sounds of distress that suggest:

I’m either breaking a personal best
Or actually dying

Honestly, I think there’s a small part of her hoping this might be the one that finally finishes me off.

Freedom at last.

Warm-Up: False Hope

SNG pre-workout down the hatch.

(At this point I’m caffeinated enough to question my life choices faster.)

I start the warm-up.

“Actually… this isn’t that bad.”

Legs feel okay.
Heart rate steady.
Confidence creeping in.

Then…

He appears.

The Voice

That little voice in your head.

The one with a serious complex.

“Things are about to get hard… stay consistent throughout.”

Easy for you to say, pal.
You’re not the one pedalling.

The Test: Enter the Pain Cave

Then it starts.

And very quickly… it gets real.

Legs begin to burn.
Breathing gets heavy.
Grunts start getting louder.

Then louder again.

At this point I’m not sure if I’m training or being exorcised.

My wife runs in:

“Are you alright?!”

Hard to tell if she’s concerned…
or just checking if this is finally the end.

Full Breakdown Mode

Now it’s chaos:

“Fan up, luv!”
“Music louder, luv!”
“More water, luv!”
“New legs, luv!”
“New lungs, luv!”

I’m bargaining with life itself at this point.

Every second feels like a minute.
Every minute feels like a bad decision.

This is where THE EDGE actually earns its keep:

Caffeine keeping me switched on
Beta-alanine buffering that burn
Citrulline helping blood flow when everything’s screaming

Without it… I’d have mentally quit about 8 minutes earlier.

It Ends… But Not Really

Then suddenly…

It’s over.

Or at least the pedalling part is.

Because now comes the worst bit:

Waiting for Zwift to tell you your fate.

Why does it take so long?

This isn’t the 80s.
We’re not on dial-up.

Life goes into slow motion.

Heart still pounding.
Lungs trying to reboot.
Sweat everywhere.

Just staring at the screen like it’s about to deliver exam results.

The Result

Then…

BANG.

307 watts.

A +9 watt increase over winter.

And just like that—

All the early mornings
All the cold rides
All the suffering
All the biscuits I didn’t eat (and the ones I did)

Worth it.

A big, slightly breathless:

“YESSSS!”

comes out of me as I’m still half-dead over the handlebars.

Why We Do It

The FTP test is brutal.

It hurts.
It exposes you.
It doesn’t care about excuses.

But it also tells the truth.

And this time?

The truth was good.

Back to Work

Fitness is moving.

Confidence is back.

And Ironman 2026 just got a little bit closer.

Now if you’ll excuse me…

I’m off to celebrate.

Probably with Maltesers.

— Craig 🩷🖤

12/03/2026

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01/03/2026

The 4am Negotiation: A Conversation With Sleepy Biscuit Craig

By Craig Wood

There are two versions of me.

There’s Motivated Ironman 2026 Craig.
Disciplined. Focused. Vision-driven.

And then there’s 4am Craig.

4am Craig is a completely different human.

04:00 – The Alarm (Which Feels Illegal)

Let’s just address this first.

4am shouldn’t exist.

Nothing good happens at 4am.
The world is dark.
The house is silent.
Even the dog looks concerned ( errr I don't even have a dog).

When that alarm goes off, it doesn’t feel motivational.

It feels criminal.

Like I should whisper so the police don’t hear me breaking the law of sleep.

The Negotiation Begins

Alarm goes off.

Motivated Craig:
“Right. Up we get. Turbo session. Let’s build that engine.”

Sleepy Craig:
“Absolutely not.”

Biscuit Craig (emerging softly):
“You trained yesterday. Recovery is important. Elite athletes prioritise sleep.”

Motivated Craig:
“It’s Zone 2. Easy aerobic base work.”

Sleepy Craig:
“It’s dark. The heating’s off. Your back hurt Wednesday. Remember Wednesday?”

Biscuit Craig:
“You could train later.”

Ah yes.

The greatest lie ever told.

The Lie of ‘I’ll Train Later’

“I’ll just do it tonight.”

No, you won’t.

Evening Craig is tired.
Evening Craig has emails.
Evening Craig has kids.
Evening Craig has “just one episode” of Netflix.

Evening Craig also has access to Maltesers.

We both know what happens there.

The moment you hit snooze, the session is dead.

It’s not postponed.

It’s buried.

The Five-Second Window

There’s a tiny moment — about five seconds — where everything is decided.

If I swing my legs out of bed, it’s game on.

If I don’t… it’s biscuits.

That’s it.

There’s no grand motivation speech.

No Rocky soundtrack.

Just a tired man in the dark deciding whether Ironman 2026 matters more than a warm duvet.

The Zombie Walk

Somehow, I sit up.

Victory.

Feet hit the floor.

Massive victory.

At this point I’m not an athlete.
I’m a pensioner heading to the kettle.

Shuffle to the coffee machine.
One scoop of SNG Endure in the bottle.
Stare into space while the caffeine loads into my bloodstream.

I don’t feel heroic.

I feel confused.

Turbo: The Reckoning

Climb on.

Start pedalling.

Body:
“What are we doing?”

Brain:
“We discussed this.”

Five minutes in and I’m still half asleep.

Ten minutes in and I’m warming up.

Fifteen minutes in and I realise something important:

I’m not tired anymore.

I’m just awake.

And that’s the trick.

The Quiet Victory

By 5:15am, the house is still asleep.

The world is silent.

Sweat is forming.

Heart rate steady.

Zone 2 humming.

And there it is.

That quiet little voice:

“You did it.”

Not the session.

Just the hardest part.

Getting out of bed.

Because nobody ever regrets the session they started.

They regret the one they didn’t.

Sleepy Biscuit Craig Never Dies

Let’s be clear.

Sleepy Craig will be back tomorrow.

He will whisper:

“It’s cold.”
“You need recovery.”
“You deserve rest.”
“Maltesers exist.”

And I’ll have the same five-second negotiation again.

But if I keep winning that tiny battle — just swinging my legs out of bed — the bigger picture takes care of itself.

Ironman 2026 isn’t built in heroic sessions.

It’s built at 4am…

When no one’s watching.

When it feels illegal.

When it would be easier to stay in bed.

And when you choose not to.

Now if you’ll excuse me…

The alarm’s set.

And Sleepy Biscuit Craig is already planning his argument.

— Craig 🩷🖤

24/02/2026

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22/02/2026

Dad Bod, Weight Loss & The Crack Addict in Me

Winter Body Confessions from a 40+ Triathlete

By Craig Wood

Let’s talk about it.

The dad bod.

The winter version of me currently looks and feels like a slightly annoyed grizzly bear waking up from hibernation. Stiff. Hungry. Confused. Mildly aggressive if you approach me before coffee.

Why is it that as you get older, stubborn fat doesn’t just hang around — it signs a long-term tenancy agreement?

When I was younger, I could eat everything in sight and still be that guy on the beach. You know the one — 12–15 hours of training a week, abs visible from space, tri-suit one size too small “for aerodynamic purposes”.

Now?

I glance at a cake and gain 5lbs.

The cake weighs 1lb.

Explain that.

There was a time when people looked at me and thought, “He trains.”

Now I feel like Greenpeace are assessing whether I need gently rolling back into the sea.

And yes — if you’re over 40 and still racing triathlon — you know exactly what I mean. Be honest. When you tense up in the mirror now, things don’t tighten… they rearrange.

The Dad Bod Is Apparently ‘In’

I read an article the other day saying the dad bod is attractive now.

Brilliant.

So no more sucking it in.
No more buying a tri-suit one size too small hoping it compresses ambition into reality.

It’s all coming out.

I’m embracing it.

Sort of.

The Inner Crack Addict

Here’s the real issue.

Once I finish training, something happens.

It’s like my brain switches to survival mode and my wife walks into what looks like a burglary scene.

Cupboard doors open.
Empty packets of Cheetos.
Maltesers scattered across the counter like evidence.

I tell myself:

“It’s the lighter way to enjoy chocolate.”

Completely ignoring the fact I’ve just demolished a family share box in 15 minutes.

Cheetos? Don’t even start me.

I can burn 3,000–5,000 calories in a heavy training day and genuinely believe I’ve only eaten 100.

Then I downloaded a food tracking app.

Worst decision ever.

It might as well just pop up and say:

“Calm down, Craig. You’re not carbo-loading for the apocalypse.”

It keeps “lying” to me with these ridiculous numbers. Apparently, Maltesers count. Apparently, Cheetos count. Apparently, licking the spoon also counts.

Rude.

Why Is It Harder Over 40?

Here’s the boring science bit (because I can’t help myself):

As we age:

Testosterone naturally declines

Muscle mass becomes harder to maintain

Metabolic rate drops

Recovery slows

Stress increases cortisol (hello belly fat)

So you’re juggling:
Training
Work
Kids
Life
Hormones
Sleep deprivation

And wondering why the six-pack now looks more like a softly packed lunch.

It’s not weakness.

It’s biology.

But that doesn’t mean we give up.

Where SNG Actually Helps Me

This is where I’ll be honest.

The reason I built SNG wasn’t to sell magic powders.

It was because I needed tools that actually supported:

Energy control

Appetite regulation

Recovery

Consistency

ENDURE helps massively during longer sessions because of the slower-releasing carb sources like Cluster Dextrin® and Palatinose™. They provide steady energy, which helps avoid that blood sugar crash that sends you straight into the biscuit tin later.

Less crash = less “raid the cupboard like a raccoon”.

The electrolyte profile also helps hydration, which people massively underestimate for appetite control. Half the time we think we’re starving — we’re just dehydrated and dramatic.

THE EDGE helps with focus and output during sessions thanks to ingredients like:

Caffeine (obvious hero)

L-Theanine (smooths the jitters)

Citrulline Malate (improves blood flow)

Beta-alanine (buffers fatigue)

When sessions are higher quality, I burn what I intend to burn — not just “ride and scroll Instagram”.

REVIVAL helps with recovery — tart cherry extract for inflammation, magnesium for muscle relaxation and sleep quality, zinc for hormonal support. Better sleep = better appetite control = fewer midnight Cheeto incidents.

Do I still sometimes lose to Maltesers?

Yes.

But I lose less often.

The Rollercoaster

Like many amateur athletes, I fluctuate.

One month I’m:
“Look at this body, I train.”

Next month I’m:
“Peppa Pig’s Dad — endurance edition.”

But here’s the thing.

Being an amateur athlete, dad, husband, business owner, and occasional cupboard-raiding gremlin is chaotic.

And I wouldn’t change it.

Hats off to every parent juggling:
Kids
Partners
Training
Work
And the cookie monster within them

Keep going. Keep training. Keep laughing at yourself.

And yes…

Maybe keep smashing the Maltesers (because it is the lighter way to enjoy chocolate).

Just maybe not the whole box.

Chin up.
Dad bod out.
Alarm set for 4am.

At least I’ve got SNG to help keep the grizzly bear moving.

— Craig 🩷🖤

15/02/2026

Rain, Regret & a Four-Day Affair with Ben & Jerry’s

By Craig Wood

This week’s training plan looked solid on paper.

The weather, however, chose violence.

Cold rain.
Wet runs.
Wet trainers that never quite dry properly.
That cold wind that doesn’t just hit your face — it questions your life choices.

Every run turned into an obstacle course. I wasn’t just dodging mad dogs and overly enthusiastic walkers — I was leaping puddles, sliding through mud, and trying to avoid that one patch of grass that looks innocent but is actually a swamp.

There’s nothing quite like finishing a run with:

Numb fingers

Mud up your calves

Socks that squelch

And that lingering smell of “wet dog”, even though you don’t own a dog.

Vitamin D: My artificial sunshine

Let’s be honest — the British winter doesn’t exactly scream “optimal hormone profile”.

So yes, the sun tablets (Vitamin D) have been doing some heavy lifting. Because when the sky looks like it hasn’t smiled since 1998, you need something pretending to be sunlight.

Placebo or not, I’m convinced they’ve kept me from fully morphing into a pale, grumpy cave troll.

Then Wednesday happened

Up until Wednesday, I was grinding through it.

Cold? Fine.
Wet? Fine.
Mildly miserable? Also fine.

Then I woke up and my back felt like I was 90 years old.

Not “tight”.
Not “a bit stiff”.

No.

Full Victorian-era coal miner.

Every step on my run felt like someone had replaced my spine with a rusty coat hanger. You know that feeling where you’re upright but only just? That.

Then I tried the turbo.

Every turn of the pedals felt horrible. Not “zone 2 discomfort” horrible. Not “character building” horrible.

Just horrible.

The kind of horrible where your body says:
“Absolutely not.”

What does a dedicated amateur athlete do in that situation?

Rest?
Mobility?
Ice bath?

No.

I went to the Co-op.

Big tub of Ben & Jerry’s.
Chocolate.
Sweets.
Netflix.

Four days.

Four.

I told myself it was “active recovery”.

It was not.

It was emotional damage control with sprinkles.

By day two I was committed. By day three I’d accepted my new identity as a semi-retired endurance athlete. By day four I started googling “how fit can you stay without training”.

Now it’s Sunday

And the regret has arrived.

Not just emotional regret — physical regret.

I can feel the chocolate in my bloodstream. The sweets. The lack of movement. That slight heaviness that whispers:

“You’ve made this harder for yourself.”

Because here’s the reality.

When that alarm goes off at 4am Monday morning…

I’m in trouble.

The legs will feel flat.
The lungs will question me.
The turbo will feel even more aggressive.

And I’ll lie there for five seconds thinking:

“Maybe triathlon isn’t for me.”

But I know myself.

I’ll get up.
Zombie walk to the coffee machine.
Bottle mixed.
Fan ready.
Back on the grind.

Because this is the messy middle of getting better.

Cold rain.
Mud.
Back pain.
Ice cream regret.

It’s not linear. It’s not pretty. It’s definitely not Instagram-worthy.

But it’s real.

And at least I’ve got SNG Endure to get me through it all.

— Craig 🩷🖤