Listful Thinking
Physical activity isn’t on my list of “Areas in Which I Excel.” It doesn’t make an appearance on the list “Areas in Which I’m OK” or “Areas in Which I’m Awkward.” It’s at the top of “Areas in Which My Ineptitude Embarrasses Others,” followed by cooking and unlocking things. These are the sterling credentials I presented before being tested in the Monfort Human Performance Lab. If anyone can perform at the peak of human ability, it’s me, the Michael Phelps of watching TV.
The Human Performance Lab in Saunders is one of CMU’s hidden perks. University athletes use the lab to analyze and improve their technique. Occasionally, Olympic athletes utilize its top-of-the-line resources.
The rest of us hardly ever take advantage of it because we don’t know it exists, or don’t realize appointments are free to students. Free is my favorite four-letter F word.
The Human Performance Lab isn’t hard to find, but I wasn’t sure what I was getting into. When the tests were described to me, the words “nearly naked,” “giant egg,” and “running” were used. I was nervous.
I filled out a Physical Activity Readiness Questionnaire and explained that I hate moving. An intern measured my height, and then it was on to the first test, which was the one worrying me the most.
The Bod Pod is an egg-shaped chamber that analyzes body composition using air displacement, showing how much fat you have compared to fat-free mass like bones and muscles. The Bod Pod is more accurate than other methods of analysis, and is drier than the previous accepted methodology, underwater weighing.
I stripped down to tight shorts and my borrowed sports bra, put a cap over my hair, then sat still inside the chamber while air blew around me for a few seconds. It’s not uncomfortable unless your friend outside takes pictures of you.
I’m 23% body fat, which puts me in the “Moderately Lean” category for females. Elite female athletes’ fat levels fall between 15% and 18%. The Bod Pod also provided me with a Resting Metabolic Rate — the minimum energy your body needs to function — which helps manage caloric intake.
The lab’s high speed video cameras shoot 32,000 frames per second, capturing tiny movements to see where the action goes wrong. Dr. Guy Leadbetter, who oversees the lab, is the head women’s cross country coach, and Dr. Bill Sands, the lab’s Director, coached gymnastics internationally. The two can analyze runners and gymnasts, but the lab will film any athlete, from longboarders to Nordic skiers, and give them a DVD for analysis.
Brent Alumbaugh, the lab assistant, asked if I had any hobbies I wanted to analyze, so he stuck two reflective dots to my sacrum and filmed me running on an oversized treadmill, with and without shoes, then let me look at the slow version.
The dots’ movement showed any discrepancies in the strength of my glutes. My right butt cheek is weaker than my left, and I’ll be mentioning that at parties. Alumbaugh zoomed in on my knees and feet.
“When you run by putting your heel down first, it’s bad for your leg. A lot of runners are so used to cushioned shoes they don’t realize they’re striking with their heels. You’re springing off the ball of your foot because you’re untrained. It’s a good thing,” he said. Then he looked at my knees. “You’re a little knock-kneed, aren’t you? And pigeon-toed.”
I stood in front of a thermal imaging camera next. Inflamed injuries appear white next to the cooler, darker areas of your body. Onscreen, my shoulder turned black after applying an icepack.
My last test was a VO2 max test which involves running until you can’t anymore while a machine analyzes your heartbeat, the fuels you’re using, and how intense your training should be. I strapped on a wireless heartbeat monitor and put on headgear that would make an orthodontist blush. I breathed through a tube and couldn’t talk, so I stabbed my finger at a paper with numbers representing the range between “no effort expended” and “I’m dying.”
Each minute, the treadmill I ran on increased its intensity. I couldn’t swallow, so I wiped my mouth often and hoped no one was judging. I ran almost 10 minutes before I had to stop, and was proud until Dr. Sands read my results.
“You look thin but you need a lot of conditioning,” he said. I replied by gasping for air.
I didn’t have time to do all the tests, but I want to go back. It’s clear Alumbaugh and the rest of the staff aren’t there for the athletes alone. There’s an obvious enthusiasm for helping everyone discover more about his or her ability to excel. I’ll never be an elite athlete, but I’ll drool around headgear with the best of them.
ssummar@mavs.coloradomesa.edu
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