What would you consume for the ultimate gaming experience?

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Last week, I found myself in a conference room at the Hilton Resorts World Las Vegas, preparing to ask some tough questions. I was holding a schedule for around 40 elite athletes participating in the Enhanced Games, an event where the use of legal performance-enhancing drugs was the main attraction. Soon, a media frenzy would unfold, allowing reporters to approach each athlete and ask, “What are you taking?”

However, none of the athletes revealed their specific blends of performance enhancers. Instead, they shared that they felt great, found training easier, and experienced quicker recovery times. The organization behind the Games only provided a vague, aggregated list of substances used by athletes to deter others from self-medicating without proper medical guidance.

The outcomes of the inaugural Games have sparked plenty of discussion. Notably, three out of four unenhanced athletes outperformed their enhanced counterparts in their races. Only one world record—arguably the event’s main selling point—was broken. Ultimately, it appeared that the Games were more about promoting a range of supplements, hormone therapies, and legal peptides through a direct-to-consumer telehealth platform than about athletic achievement.

After the Games, I was left with many questions, but the most pressing one was: How do we determine what’s safe to put into our bodies?

Both wellness influencers and athletes are intensely focused on their physical well-being. It’s understandable; their appearance and performance are their livelihoods. This universal desire to optimize health has led to a booming wellness industry valued at $6.8 trillion, projected to reach $9.8 trillion by 2029. This drive explains the constant barrage of ads for telehealth apps, influencers promoting supplements, and questionable podcasters endorsing testosterone replacement therapies.

Yet, it’s perplexing that the same individuals who reject vaccines backed by extensive scientific research are often willing to inject themselves with untested substances in hopes of becoming stronger, leaner, or faster.

James Magnussen, a retired swimmer and three-time Olympic medalist, raised this point during the Enhanced Games media scrum. He referenced the COVID-19 vaccine while responding to questions about the health risks of doping, suggesting that many don’t question the long-term effects of that injection. (While he’s mistaken—research on the vaccine’s long-term effects is ongoing and shows serious complications are rare—his sentiment reflects a broader debate about bodily autonomy versus safety.)

As I spoke with various athletes, health experts, and biotech executives, the recurring theme was the tension between what’s deemed “safe” and the principle of personal choice.

“I would never dictate what someone should do with their body,” said Hunter Armstrong, another three-time Olympic medalist who competed without doping and won the men’s 50m backstroke. He expressed concern about unsafe enhancements, especially for younger athletes.

While Armstrong didn’t claim the $1 million prize, he did earn $375,000 for his performances. Despite being unenhanced, the optics of Enhanced incentivizing financially struggling athletes to dope, only to market various substances to the public, are troubling. After speaking with Dr. Guido Pieles, a sports cardiologist and chair of Enhanced’s independent medical commission, I noted a disconnect between what was sold on Enhanced’s telehealth service and what athletes were actually using. For instance, the service offered GHK-Cu and GLP-1s, neither of which were on the approved list for athletes, while 41% of them were using erythropoietin (EPO), a substance often abused in endurance sports.

When I raised this inconsistency with Enhanced CEO Maximilian Martin, he disagreed.

“GHK-Cu is a peptide that doesn’t necessarily make you a faster swimmer. I don’t think our businesses are at odds. We want to promote the right way to use performance enhancers, emphasizing medical supervision and regular follow-up testing,” he explained.

Martin criticized the current trend of self-administering unregulated peptides. “Ordering peptides online from unverified sources and injecting them without supervision is not the way to go!”

Christian Angermayer, a biotech investor and cofounder of Enhanced, echoed this sentiment, suggesting that the distrust in the medical establishment has grown since the COVID-19 pandemic. He believes that the pharmaceutical industry has largely ignored the public’s desire for self-improvement, pushing individuals to take matters into their own hands.

“A pure libertarian might argue for total freedom, but freedom without knowledge isn’t true freedom. You might feel free, but you could be harming yourself,” Angermayer stated.

They have a point. A recent case study highlighted a 32-year-old man who ended up in the emergency room after self-administering an unapproved GLP-1 agonist, resulting in severe gastrointestinal distress.

In theory, Enhanced isn’t wrong in advocating for safer, more reliable options. The harm reduction argument is also being used to justify potential FDA reclassification of certain experimental peptides. However, this approach hinges on public trust in the medical establishment.

I inquired about the implications of recategorizing these experimental peptides. Angermayer indicated they would evaluate each one based on medical evidence before deciding which to offer. Martin added, “Ultimately, we need to trust our regulators to make the right choices for society. If reclassification occurs, we could offer those peptides—though not all, just a subset.”

In an ideal scenario, this would be a reasonable stance. However, the FDA has faced significant challenges under the current administration, leading to confusion about its role in assessing safety and efficacy.

So, in this chaotic wellness landscape, how does the average person determine what’s safe to consume? How do they navigate the noise of flashy pro-doping events, misleading wellness ads, and dubious narratives?

“Do your own research” is a common refrain, but it’s often misleading. Scientific research is constantly evolving and requires ongoing updates. While science is dynamic, it’s also complex and often difficult to distill into simple sound bites. During my research on peptides and performance enhancers, I found it challenging to separate fact from marketing, and not all studies are created equal. Understanding the quality of research can be daunting for those without a scientific background.

However, when it comes to health and performance enhancement, there are a couple of straightforward pieces of advice to keep in mind.

“Biohacking is like trying to slap a turbocharger on a poorly maintained engine. If you don’t take care of the engine first, adding a high-end turbocharger will just break it,” said Martin Chandler, a research fellow at the University of Birmingham. “And that’s not something you can achieve with drugs.”

“Magic medicines don’t exist because drugs are designed to treat medical conditions, not to enhance performance,” added Ian Boardley, a professor at the same university.

Both emphasize that drugs and biohacking have limitations. Genetics play a significant role in individual responses to treatments, and in elite sports, there’s often a genetic advantage. Ultimately, the fundamentals of health—sleep, exercise, and nutrition—remain crucial. There are no shortcuts to achieving optimal performance.

Everyone has a different tolerance for risk. Some may be willing to try unproven substances for potential benefits, while others will demand rigorous scientific validation. One key takeaway from the Enhanced Games is the importance of discerning marketing hype from genuine science and identifying trustworthy experts—skills that will be increasingly vital in the future.