Recently in Sports Category

 

February 28, 2010

A persistent problem at races is long lines for the portapotties. I've actually missed the start of races because I was waiting in line. I've often wished that races would sell some sort of premier access where you would pay a little extra on your race fee and get to use special portapotties. (This is effectively Odzlyko's Paris Metro Pricing idea applied to a different kind of uh, resource.) Actually, what I would probably prefer would be a guarantee that the race would have an extra premier toilet for each X racers that paid for premier access.

Anyway, the New Orleans Rock and Roll Marathon seems to have implemented a more elaborate version of this:

To get your race off to the best possible start, we'll have comfortable, climate-controlled restroom trailers set up at the starting line. Running water, flushing toilets, and some Run Happy® surprises await.

To access this pre-race luxury, you'll need to snag a Brooks VIP Porta Potty pass in one of two easy ways:

1. Head to Varsity Sports between 2/1 and 2/27 and purchase $50 in Brooks or Moving Comfort apparel or Brooks shoes. Offer valid at both Varsity Sports locations.

OR

2. Come to the Rock 'n' Roll Mardi Gras Marathon™ & 1/2 Marathon Health and Fitness Expo on Friday 2/26, or Saturday 2/27, and purchase $150 in official Rock 'n' Roll Marathon merchandise, Brooks apparel or shoes, or Moving Comfort apparel.

Either way, you'll receive a sticker for your race bib. The sticker is your race-day pass to Brooks' VIP Porta Potty, to be expertly staffed by Varsity Sports volunteers and Brooks employees,

It's hard to figure out how much this really costs: I don't wear Brooks shoes, but presumably I could find some Brooks gear that would be comfortable, so figure like 20% of the amount you're expected to spend, which isn't so bad. Anyway, I've got no objection to emptying my bladder in comfort, of course—and the portapotties at races can get pretty bad—but really my priority is being able to go without having to wait. I'd be interested to hear from anyone who was at this event and used this service how long the line was.

 

January 8, 2010

Jennifer Leigh sent me a pointer to this article suggesting that running shoes put more stress on your legs.
Sixty-eight healthy young adult runners (37 women), who run in typical, currently available running shoes, were selected from the general population. None had any history of musculoskeletal injury and each ran at least 15 miles per week. A running shoe, selected for its neutral classification and design characteristics typical of most running footwear, was provided to all runners. Using a treadmill and a motion analysis system, each subject was observed running barefoot and with shoes. Data were collected at each runner's comfortable running pace after a warm-up period.

The researchers observed increased joint torques at the hip, knee and ankle with running shoes compared with running barefoot. Disproportionately large increases were observed in the hip internal rotation torque and in the knee flexion and knee varus torques. An average 54% increase in the hip internal rotation torque, a 36% increase in knee flexion torque, and a 38% increase in knee varus torque were measured when running in running shoes compared with barefoot.

Seeing as hip, knee, and ankle are major running injury sites— in fact, practically every major running injury I've ever had has been either at the knee or the ankle—this seems like it's something to pay attention to. The authors recommend that "Reducing joint torques with footwear completely to that of barefoot running, while providing meaningful footwear functions, especially compliance, should be the goal of new footwear designs." I already wear a relatively compliant shoe, the Inov-8 295, and while I don't have any data, it seems to have had a positive impact on a persistent ankle injury that has plagued me for years. I'd be interested to see this study repeated with a shoe deliberately designed to be as barefoot-like as possible like the Inov-8.

I do have a pair of the Vibram FiveFingers shoes, and while the advertising literature clearly suggests that you can run in them, I haven't really been brave enough to try it. There seem to me to be two issues here: First, the soles provide some protection but they're pretty flexible; I'm not sure that if you stepped directly on a rock it wouldn't be unpleasant. So, it seems like you would have to be a bit careful on trails. By contrast, asphalt is so unforgiving you would really need to have ideal form in order to avoid having some pretty serious impact forces. I'm still planning to go for a short run on a trail at some point, but I figure on taking it slow.

 

September 9, 2009

Eu-Jin Goh pointed out to me that Patagonia is cancelling their relationship with Sigg:
Patagonia formally announced on September 4th that it would terminate all co-branding and co-marketing efforts with SIGG, Inc. It has come to Patagonia's attention from recent news reports that a Bisphenol A (BPA) epoxy coating was used in most aluminum SIGG bottles manufactured prior to August 2008, despite earlier assurances from SIGG that the liners of their bottles did not contain BPA. Bisphenol A is a chemical that Patagonia does not support the use of in consumer products, hence the company has terminated its co-branding relationship with SIGG. In addition, Patagonia is ceasing the sale of SIGG bottles in its stores, as well as through its catalog and on-line distribution.

...

"We did our homework on the topic of BPA, going all the way back to 2005 when this subject first emerged in discussions in scientific journals" Rick Ridgeway, Patagonia's VP of environmental initiatives states. "We even arranged for one of the leading scientists on BPA research to come to our company to educate us on the issue. Once we concluded there was basis for concern, we immediately pulled all drinking bottles that contained BPA from our shelves and then searched for a BPA-free bottle. We very clearly asked SIGG if there was BPA in their bottles and their liners, and they clearly said there was not. After conducting such thorough due diligence, we are more than chagrined to see the ad that is appearing in Backpacker, but we also feel that with this explanation our customers will appreciate and understand our position."

The last paragraph is the most interesting for me. In Sigg's public statements, it seems like they were mostly evasive, but it would be interesting to know if they flat-out lied to Patagonia. I'm starting to think Sigg may take a pretty big hit here: people bought their product cause they were trying to get away from BPA and seem more upset with Sigg than with Nalge, who never denied their product had BPA in it, just kept saying it was OK until they finally caved and brought out a non-BPA bottle. So, even though it seems like there was more BPA risk from Nalgene (if you believe the studies) people seem more angry at Sigg because they feel like Sigg wasn't honest.

Also, check out this interview (also via Eu-Jin) with Adam Bradley, who just set a new record for thru-hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (from Mexico to Canada).

 

August 25, 2009

Sorry for the unadvertised absence but I've been gone hiking the Appalachian Trail John Muir Trail.

Here's the executive summary: the JMT starts at Happy Isles trailhead in Yosemite Valley and nominally goes to the summit of Mount Whitney, 211 (208? It's remarkably hard to get accurate numbers here) miles away. Because there's no road that goes to the top of Whitney, you then need to hike out to the trailhead at Whitney Portal, for a total distance of 218 (222?) miles. I left Yosemite at about 10 AM August 13th and arrived at Whitney Portal at about 2 PM August 23rd. More specifically:

Day  Camp Site Distance  Cumulative
1 Upper Cathedral Lake 17 17
2 After Donohue Pass 20 37
3 Reds Meadow 21 59
4 Squaw Lake Outlet 21 79
5 South of Selden Pass 24 103
6 Sapphire Lake 21 124
7 Upper Palisade Lakes 22 146
8 North of Glen Pass 22 168
9 Tyndall Creek Crossing  21 187
10 Guitar Lake 16 203
11 Exit 15 218

Note: numbers are approximate and don't include detours, places where I accidentally went off the trail for a little bit, etc. The cumulative and distance numbers don't add up perfectly due to round off error.

It's traditional, I suppose, to do some sort of day by journal, but honestly you don't want to read that "Day 5: walked another 20 miles. Ate another 9 PowerBars. Stunning scenery. Very tired." More interesting, I think, is to talk a bit about planning, gear, logistics, etc., so I'll be doing some of that over the next few days. I'll also post some more pictures once I get them uploaded, sorted, etc.

 

August 1, 2009

Recently there have been a number of theme travel shows, where the host flys around and checks out how they do X in various countries. You may have heard of "No Reservations," where Anthony Bourdain checks out local foods. Fight Quest has a similar concept, except that the hosts travel around the world learning to beat people up (there's a similar show called Human Weapon that I have yet to check out). The stars have MMA experience, but mostly explore traditional arts like Wing Chun, Kung Fu, Muay Thai, etc.

The format is basically the same in each show: they split up the stars (Jimmy and Doug), with one of them training with a more traditional style (typically out in the country somewhere), with the other training in a more gritty urban style. The instructors torture them for five days and then they each have to fight with a chosen fighter of the relevant style. The concept mostly works out, but a lot of the interest is watching them try to adapt to whatever artificial rules are imposed by the style they're fighting in. In several of the episodes, they pretty much clobber their opponents but "lose" anyway because they didn't comply with those stylistic rules. This works out in some cases, though; it's hard to argue with a knockout. As Terence pointed out to me, you kind of do want to see these guys say just once "this is the stupidest martial art I've ever seen", but they're unfailingly respectful.

The one exception here is Krav Maga, where there basically aren't any rules and a bunch of stuff that's prohibited in MMA (eye gouging, groin strikes, etc.) so one might say that this is a case where it's MMA that has the artificial rules that don't apply to a real fight. Unfortunately, we don't get to see any one-on-one fights, only one man fighting a group, where he pretty much gets pummelled, so it's hard to see how effective these techniques are. On the other hand, in a real fight one might expect your opponent to pull out a gun and shoot you, so I'm not sure how to gauge artificial here.

 

July 12, 2009

It's reasonably common for MMA fights to be stopped due to excessive bleeding by one of the fighters. In fact, in some cases fighters will deliberately try to open up a cut on their opponent in order to get a stoppage. Apparently, some fighters are more susceptible to cuts than others. The NYT has an interesting article about plastic surgery to make them more resistant to bleeding:
So last summer, Davis, 35, contacted a plastic surgeon in Las Vegas. He wanted to make his skin less prone to cutting.

The surgeon, Dr. Frank Stile, burred down the bones around Davis's eye sockets. He also removed scar tissue around his eyes and replaced it with collagen made from the skin of cadavers.

There appear to be two claimed underlying problems: (1) sharp bone ridges in the skull which result in cuts when strikes to the face force the skin against the bone and (2) poor treatment of cuts in the ring resulting in "unstable scar tissue" which is thus more likely to result in a propensity to future cuts.

As usual with medical procedures applied to athletes, we are immediately faced with the question of whether this is simple treatment or an enhancement. To the extent to which you're fixing incompletely healed injuries, that certainly looks like medical treatment. The bone shaving, on the other hand, starts to look more like enhancement. On the other hand, I guess you could think of sharp bones the same way you would think of, say, asthma, in which case treatment starts to look appropriate. On the third hand, I think we can agree that implanting a plastic plate over your forehead, while an effective anti-cut measure, would probably be outside the rules. All this just reinforces that these distinctions are basically arbitrary; if we ban this kind of surgery, it's an advantage to people with good bone structure. Contrariwise, if we allow this kind of surgery, people who formerly had the advantage of good bone structure lose that advantage.

Of course, all this assumes that the surgery actually works. But if it doesn't, likely something that works will eventually come along.

 

July 5, 2009

The problem with climbing grades is that unlike running, cycling, lifting, etc. there's no objective measure of difficulty. Routes are just graded by consensus of other climbers, in this case the gym's routesetters. As a result, some routes are easier than others—and of course since different climbers have different styles, which routes are easiest depends on the climber as well—and as a practical matter some routes are really harder or easier than their rated grade.1 Of course, given that there's no objective standard, you could argue that this isn't a meaningful statement, but that's not really true: a difficulty grade is really a statement about how many people can do a route, so if you have a bunch of routes which are rated at 5.10 and I can't climb any of them but I jump on a new route rated 5.10, and race up it with no effort, that's a sign it's not really a 5.10. This is actually a source of real angst to people just starting to break into a grade—at least for me—since if I can do it, I immediately expect that the rating is soft.

It would be nice to have a more objective measurement of difficulty. While we can't do this just by measuring the route (the way we can with running, for instance) that doesn't mean the problem is insoluble; we just need to take a more sophisticated approach. Luckily, we can steal a solution from another problem domain: psychological testing. The situations are actually fairly similar: in both cases we have a trait (climbing skill, intelligence) which isn't directly measurable. Instead, we can give our subjects a bunch of problems which are generally easier the higher your level of ability. In the psychological domain, what we want to do is evaluate people's level of ability; in the climbing domain, we want to evaluate the level of difficulty of the problems. With the right methods, it turns out that these are more or less the same problem.

The technique we want is called Item Response Theory (IRT). IRT assumes that each item (question on the test or route, as the case may be) has a certain difficulty level; if you succeed on an item, that's an indication that your ability is above that level. If you fail, that's an indication that your ability is below that level. Given a set of items of known difficulties, then, we can can quickly home in on someone's ability, which is how computerized adaptive tests work. Similarly, if we take a small set of people of known abilities and their performance on each item, we can use that to fit the parameters for those items.

It's typical to assume that the probability of success on each item is a logistic curve. The figure below shows an item with difficulty level 1.

Of course, this assumes that we already know how difficult the items are, but initially we don't know anything: we just have a set of people and items without any information about how good/difficult any of them are. In order to do the initial calibration we start by collecting a large, random sample of people and have them try each item. You end up with a big matrix of each person and whether they succeeded or failed at each one, but since you don't know how good anyone is other than by the results of this test, things get a little complicated. The basic idea behind at least one procedure, due to Birnbaum, (it's not entirely clear to me if this is how modern software works; the R ltm documentation is a little opaque) is to use an iterative technique where you assign an initial set of abilities to each person and then use that to estimate the difficulty of each problem. Given those assignments, we can re-fit to determine people's abilities. You then use those estimates to reestimate the problem difficulties and iterate back and forth until the estimates converge, at which point you have estimate of both the difficulty of each item and the ability of each individual. (My description here is based on Baker).

As an example I generated some toy data with 20 items and 100 subjects with a variety of abilities and fit it using R's ltm package. The figure below shows the results with the response curves for each item. As you can see, having a range of items with different difficulties lets us evaluate people along a wide range of abilities:

Once you've done this rather expensive calibration stage, however, you can easily calculate someone's abilities just by plugging in their performance on a small set of items. Actually, you can do better than that: you can perform an adaptive test where you start with an initial set of items and then use the response on those items to determine which items to use next, but even if you don't do this, you can get results fairly quickly.

That's nice if you're administering the SATs, but remember that what we wanted was to solve the opposite problem: rating the items, not the subjects. However, as I said earlier, these are the same problem. Once we have a set of subjects with known abilities, we can use that to roughly calibrate the difficulty of any new set of items/routes. So, the idea is that we create some set of benchmark routes and then we send our raters out to climb those routes. At that point we know their ability level and can use that to rate any new set of climbs.

There's still one problem to solve: the difficulty ratings we get out of our calculations are just numbers along some arbitrary range (it's conventional to aim for a range of about -3 to +3 with the average around 0), but we want to have ratings in the Yosemite Decimal System (5.1-5.15a as of now). It's of course easy to rescale the difficulty parameter to match any arbitrary scale of our choice, but that's not really enough, because the current ratings are so imprecise. We'll almost certainly find that there are two problems A and B where A is currently rated harder than B but our calibrated scale has B harder than A. We can of course choose a mapping that minimizes these errors, but because so many routes are misrated it's probably better to start with a smaller set of benchmark routes where there is a lot of consensus on their difficulty, make sure they map correctly, and then readjust the ratings of the rest of the routes accordingly.

Note that this doesn't account for the fact that problems can be difficult in different ways; one problem might require a lot of strength and one require a lot of balance. To some extent, this is dealt with by the having a smooth success curve which doesn't require that every 5.10 climber be able to climb every 5.10 route. However, ultimately if you have a single scalar ability/difficulty metric, there's only so much you can do in this regard. IRT can handle multiple underlying abilities, but the YSD scale we're trying to emulate can't, so there's not too much we can do along those lines.

Obviously, this is all somewhat speculative—it's a lot of work and I don't get the impression that route setters worry too much about the accuracy of their ratings. On the other hand, at least in climbing gyms if you were able to integrate it into a system that let people keep track of their success in their climbs (I do this already but most people find it to be too much trouble), you might be able to get the information you needed to calibrate new climbers and through them get a better sense of the ratings for new climbs.

Acknowledgement: This post benefitted from discussions with Leslie Rescorla, who initially suggested the IRT direction.

1. This seems to be especially bad for very easy and very hard routes. I think the issue with very easy routes is that routesetters are generally good climbers and so find all the routes super-easy. I'm not sure about harder problems, but it may be that they're near the limit of routesetters abilities and so heavily dependent on whether the route matches their style.

 

May 8, 2009

My Vibram FiveFingers showed up today (REI free shipping to your local store). I hear they run big and after trying on the 45s I went with the 44s. This seems like the best compromise size: my big toe is pretty long and it's jammed right up against the toe pocket but my little toe is only about halfway into the pocket. Putting them on take a little bit of getting used to, but since I've been wearing Injinjis, I'm used to the whole individual toe thing.

I work from home a lot and go around barefoot quite a bit, so I figured that the FiveFingers wouldn't be that much of a change. Not so, though. Obviously, you can fel them in between your toes so that's different, but there's something else too. When I'm really barefoot I tend to be real conscious of that and walk lightly. The FiveFingers are just solid enough feeling that I tend to walk more like I would in a normal shoe, but since there's no actual padding in the sole, there's a fair amount of impact. This isn't a problem on carpet or hardwood, but on asphalt or concrete it's pretty noticeable and somewhat unpleasant. When I was outside I found myself having to be really conscious to walk on my toes more than my heels. I haven't been brave enough to really try running in them yet; I took a few strides and it did not feel good, so I suspect there's a lot of adaptation you'd need to do if you were going to go for a substantial run.

 

April 21, 2009

This Boston Globe article covers the growing interest in minimalist running shoes:
That's right. Running shoes are a failed experiment. After nearly four decades of technological gimmicks and outrageous prices, they simply do not perform the function that's their only reason for existence -- protecting your feet. You can now buy running shoes with steel bedsprings embedded in the soles or with microchips that adjust the cushioning, but the injury rate hasn't decreased in almost 40 years. It's actually inched up; Achilles' tendon problems have risen by 10 percent since the '70s.

...

So how do the Tarahumara, running in shoes that barely qualify as shoes, do it? Three years ago, I trekked into the Copper Canyons of Mexico in search of the secret. And once I learned how to run barefoot-style -- landing on the balls of the feet, while keeping my feet directly under my hips -- like the Tarahumara, my ailments suddenly disappeared. Plantar fasciitis, Achilles tendinitis, sore knees -- all gone. Today, I wear something similar to a rubber glove for the foot (it has the thinnest of soles to guard against abrasions), and I haven't looked back.

...

But the unmistakable fact is that there's a trend across the shoe industry toward creating more "minimal" shoes -- those intended to duplicate the experience of, you guessed it, running barefoot. Still, those models just aren't simple enough

I'm not sure I buy this set of arguments, especially the one about injury rates. I hate to keep promulgating homeostasis theories, but I think there's some relevance here. Certainly, if you're an elite athlete you're going to train as hard as you can, which basically means that you keep ramping up the intensity and volume until either (1) you run out of time to train (2) you get injured or (3) you get so overtrained you can't keep jacking up the training level. So, even if you suddenly had better injury prevention technology, you wouldn't expect the injury rate to change that much. I don't have any empirical evidence here, but if you compare performances in the 70s to performances today, they've improved really dramatically: even in the marathon, which was very competitive in the 70s, the WR has come down by almost 5 minutes (~4%) since 1969. If you look at something like the Ironman, times have come down over an hour (more than 10%) since the 1980s. I suspect a lot of that improvement is that people are training harder. I don't know to what, if any extent this is pulling the average person's training load up.

This isn't to say that I'm convinced that modern running shoes improve the situation: the Inov-8 trail shoes I've been running in lately are deliberately unstructured, and even just wearing Injinjis rather than ordinary socks feels like your feet are more flexible and less constrained. I'm certainly enjoying training in them, and my long-term ankle injuries seem better. On the other hand, the one time I tried running a significant distance on road on them, I started to worry about how much impact I was putting into my legs. After all, we didn't evolve to run on asphalt either. Lately I've also been trying out Sanuks, which are basically sandals attached to a soft nylon shoe upper. Like Inov-8s the theory seems to be that they're not really going to support your foot. There does seem to be some kind of impact from this little support: the first few days my legs hurt but then I adapted. I don't have any reason to believe it's for the better, though. At some point I'll need to check out the research on this topic.

What I'm really interested in trying, though, is the new Vibram FiveFingers shoes, which are basically a rubber-soled sock. It's pretty clear you need to try them on to get the fit right, but Zombie Runner claims they're getting them soon so hopefully I'll be able to try them and report back.

 

March 28, 2009

Last Sunday I did the Diablo Trail 50K put on by Save Mount Diablo.

This was a fairly tough course, a bit over 32 miles with 8518 feet of climb, point-to-point from Round Valley Park to Castle Rock Park in Walnut Creek. The way this works is that you drive to Castle Rock and park your car, take a bus to the start, where you register, change if necessary and dump your bags which are carted to the finish.

It was raining hard Saturday night and windy and cold Sunday morning, so I opted for a tank top (Race Ready Ares trail shirt) and a long sleeve shirt (Brooks Dryline; you can't get these any more, unfortunately), plus some light gloves. The first rest stop was at 10 miles, so I decided to carry a hydration system (Patagonia Houdini) instead of a race belt, with a bunch of gels. Even so, it was really cold standing around at the start, and it never warmed up much. It was fine down in the valleys but as soon as you got up to the ridge line it got super-cold and windy.

To make things harder, it was pouring rain Saturday night and the first 10 miles of the trail was incredibly muddy. Even with trail shoes and walking the uphills, people were slipping all over the place. As soon as you got to a downhill your shoes would pick up about an inch of mud making it real difficult to run. I would say about 40% of the first 10 miles was serious mud, and since we were running on trails that went through pastures, cow manure. By the first aid station around mile 10 I was over 2 hours and starting to feel seriously tired. In retrospect, even knowing that you have to take it easy in a race this long, I think I pushed it too hard. It didn't help that I'd been sick the whole previous week and hadn't really completely recovered. All in all, I probably lost about 5-8 places from the start to the finish, which suggests I went out too hard.

On the other hand, I hate DNFing and while I was still tired by the time I hit the 17.2 aid station (a bit over half way), I figured it was mostly a matter of sucking it up to finish. I was starting to feel nauseous and looking for something a bit more substantial than the energy gels I'd brought and switched over to some pretzels I picked up at the aid station. It took me a while to get them down, but my stomach finally settled a bit and I made it to the 24 mile aid station without any real problems. Around mile 24 I ran into Joe McDonald, who I'd never met before but turns out to be a legend in ultra circles. We ran the next 7 miles or so together, just taking it moderate and I had an opportunity to quiz him a bit about how to improve in the sport, which was great. The intensity level in ultras and the way you get tired is a lot different than it is in triathlon (remember, you're running for a lot longer, even if the total event time is shorter), so that's something I have to get used to.

The three miles from the mile 29 aid station to the finish were pretty tough. It wasn't so much that I was tired but Joe and Jennifer Ray (advertisement: the RD for Skyline 50K, who seems pretty nice), who caught up with us at about mile 30, decided to pick up the pace a little bit, and while I wasn't quite able to stay with them, I did pick up the pace myself, running rather than walking the uphills, and did the last mile or so fairly hard. Finishing time 7:13:05, which puts me 21st out of 48.