Technology/Apps

Bend Bulletin: Cyclists Compete on Strava

Published: Aug. 17, 2017

Cyclist Mike Larsen spent a Thursday morning climbing Awbrey Butte, enduring a solo workout he refers to as “hills of horror.” The Garmin GPS device he mounted to his carbon fiber bicycle stem fed Larsen real-time information about his workout, such as wattage output, elevation gain and speed. When Larsen was finished, he uploaded the data to Strava, a social media website primarily for cyclists and runners. The anonymous hours Larsen has logged on solo workouts experience an alchemical change on Strava, his data transforming into a virtual kingdom.

Larsen has wracked up around a dozen course records on Awbrey Butte, or “King of the Mountain crowns,” which are known as “KOMs” among Strava users. All told, Larsen has accumulated 312 KOMs — the most among any Deschutes County cyclist, according to a Strava spokesperson.

“To be honest, I don’t think about it. I know that there are guys in town that could take a KOM from me or anyone else anytime they want,” said Larsen, 49. “As I get older I focus more on trying to beat my own best times. I really feel it’s important to show others that age is just a number.”

A personal trainer, Larsen said the appeal of Strava and its KOMs, which can be won on any stretch of road or trail a Strava user designates as a segment, is less about egotism than it is about interacting with the local cycling community. Yet he’s aware there is a dark side.

“There’s definitely a competition side to Strava. It can be egotistical. It’s important to not take it too seriously,” Larsen said.

It’s the cut-throat culture Strava creates, this Strava-fication, that some local runners and cyclists wish they could control-alt-delete. At local bicycle shops, the mention of Strava elicited eye rolls among mechanics and customers alike. More than a couple people said they have encountered a mountain biker barreling down a trail and barking at others to get out of the way because he’s chasing a KOM.

The chagrin is understandable. Strava makes it possible for anyone with a smart phone and a bit of gumption to forgo sanctioned races and give peers — and even local pros — a run or ride for their money. Whether the competition is welcomed is another matter entirely.

Echoing a common sentiment, one mechanic said “Strava is just ‘winning’ at exercise.”

A virtual fire hose

Strava was founded in 2009. Its name is derived from the Swedish word sträva, or to strive. Popular throughout the world, Strava is often referred to as “The Facebook for athletes.” It does not release user numbers, however. More than a social media site, Strava, for its multitude of bells and whistles, is like a Rube Goldberg machine for exercise data.

For example, say you record your route on a popular loop outside of town. Once you upload the workout, the activity’s page explodes with juicy info: distance, average mph, elevation gain and more. Scroll down to view a GPS map and an elevation profile. Below, the ride’s segments, all named by other users, are listed. If you’ve done the route before, today’s effort is measured against those of previous ones — little gold, silver and bronze medals denote your top-three performances.

The above features are free. Things get interesting when you subscribe to Strava’s premium service. Click on any segment and you can see how your effort compares to hundreds if not thousands of others’ attempts on the leaderboards, which are hierarchies of exertion that reshuffle themselves weekly, if not daily. Top-10 segment efforts win trophies; the No. 1 athlete earns a crown and is deemed king or queen of that particular segment. Taking someone’s No. 1 spot means the vanquished ruler receives an email notification that reads: “Uh oh! (So-and-so) just stole your KOM! Dethroned!” The toppled is given options to either give the successor kudos — Strava’s version of Facebook’s like — or hop to the segment page where they can analytically stew. A “flyby” feature lets you pit your effort against the newly crowned — and anyone else who has attempted the feat. With a few clicks, your thumbnail avatar races against others along the GPS map as if it were a lo-fi video game, allowing you to see the simulated drama play out second by second.

‘Testosterone fest’

Professional triathlete Matt Lieto measures his enthusiasm for Strava. The 39-year-old Bendite, who is also a coach, considers Strava a useful way to stockpile and share workout information — and to sift through those of his clients. But Lieto thinks something is being overlooked in the rush to turn every last stretch of road and trail into a mini race course. Wanting to use Strava, yet duck out from what he calls a testosterone fest, Lieto used a fake handle for two years — Oteilttam, his name spelled backwards. His sponsors convinced him to shed the anonymity and use Strava as a platform to connect with fans and the greater public. Still, Lieto is skeptical.

“The more we reach for technology, the less it’s about riding with our buddies and the more it’s about testing yourself against other people,” Lieto said. “We used to go find a new loop, go on an adventure ride. Now, I see the adventure being lost.”

Lieto sees people competing on a daily basis, which is detrimental to real training results.

“Going hard every day is not good for you. If I see that a client is going and getting a bunch of KOMs, that means they’re not doing the specific work they should be doing,” he said.

As one of Bend’s elite athletes, Lieto has 60 KOMs — any one of which he’s not particularly glad to let go.

“I get a little bummed,” he said. “But I don’t (change my workout routine) the next day to get it back.”

Meaghan McCluskey, the assistant manager at Footzone Bend, operates the shop’s Strava club. Similar to the Strava clubs Bend’s bicycle shops have set up, the Footzone club lets its customers and group run enthusiasts congregate online. They’re on a totem pole-like leaderboard. The 130 members can view their weekly mileage, elevation gains and total minutes. McCluskey began the Strava club in May and utilized a challenge feature to encourage members to chase a personal 10-kilometer record. She said about 20 percent of members took part. That McCluskey encouraged members to turn their competitiveness inward was not for nothing. Professional runners consistently top Footzone’s leaderboard, including ultrarunner Max King, who, with 440 KOMs, is the top Strava user among male runners in Deschutes County.

“We want people to have the opportunity to better themselves,” McCluskey said. “More than against the other members, you’re competing against yourself.”

The king of Awbrey Butte

Larsen’s “hills of horror” workout consisted of the steepest portions of Awbrey Butte, some which feature grades higher than 12 percent. After an hour, Larsen caught his breath at the base of a couple of radio towers, about 525 feet above downtown Bend. Larsen said he’s well aware of people’s skepticism toward Strava. Still, the semi-professional mountain bike racer sees far more positives than negatives. He particularly likes the flyby feature, which lets Strava users who cross paths on a ride or run — otherwise ships in the night — figure out who they are after the fact.

“Strava is social, it’s great. If you end up on a group ride with someone you met on Strava, you can say ‘Hey, I saw you did that cool ride the other day.’ Maybe that’s all you have to talk about at first, but before you know it you’re talking for a half hour.”

As a personal trainer who founded Larsen Performance Coaching in 2010, Larsen also knows that Strava updates are an effective way to put his money where his mouth is. He has 530 Strava followers and follows another 800 athletes near and far. When one of his clients uploads a workout, Larsen receives a cell phone alert. He spends time each day poring over and offering feedback about his clients’ activities. Recently, a 65-year-old man who’d registered for the seven-day Cycle Oregon event sent Larsen a text about coaching. The man doesn’t use social media like Facebook, he told him, but he caught wind of Larsen’s coaching success through Strava.

Larsen is coaching Kristen Yax in preparation for an upcoming Ironman triathlon this fall. The recent mother has used Strava, which she “loves,” for two years as a virtual training log. Admittedly competitive, Yax, 35 and of Bend, said she likes to compare her current efforts against past ones and those of other women in the area. She also learns about new, interesting routes by checking out others’ uploads. Yax, who retains 179 QOMs, said she enjoys Strava’s online accountability.

“Mike (Larsen) can keep tabs on me and make sure I’m staying on my strict schedule,” Yax said. “When you’re just out there training, not using technology, people can’t see what you’re doing,” she said. “You may not be compelled to finish.”

Tune out and drop in

It’s precisely this technological hyper-awareness that makes some athletes tire of Strava. McCluskey, despite maintaining Footzone Bend’s Strava Club, has let her own Strava account go dark in recent months. Returning to running after some injuries, she said she doesn’t even time her runs.

“I felt too focused on my time, tied to my (GPS) watch, always trying to better myself,” McCluskey, 29, said. “We can forget we’re in these really cool places in nature. I wanted to find my love of running again.”

McCluskey was surprised to learn that her 14 QOMs remain untouched.

“Oh, wow!” she said. “I guess it’s been a while since I really looked at (my Strava account),” she said with a laugh. “It’s really nice to know how fast you went, but sometimes it’s just about the beauty of the run.”

Bend Bulletin: Zwift, a Virtual Exercise Game, Invades Indoor Cycling

Published: Dec. 20, 2017

Bend cyclist Erin Reis spun her pedals at a brisk clip, mindful to elevate her heart rate before participating in an evening criterium bicycle race. Oddly, the other female competitors didn’t appear, even though a roll call list on Reis’ phone told her they stood among her.

“Is anyone here?” she asked to teammates on a group call with her smartphone. When no one responded, the 40-year-old cyclist hopped off the stationary bicycle trainer in her bedroom. She crouched before the keyboard in front of her flat screen television and rebooted Zwift, the virtual cycling game that has, despite kinks, revitalized indoor training around the globe.

When Reis, a new and enthusiastic user, lined up for a later race, she encountered the same problem. No video-game-like cycling avatars cued up.

“That’s a bit frustrating,” Reis said, opting instead to spin a quick interval workout through a virtual world called “Watopia.” With a heart rate of 160, she zipped past towering palm trees and coursing lava flows. Before going to bed, she filed an inquiry with Zwift about the glitch. By morning, Zwift had diagnosed why she wasn’t able to join races. The firewall of the anti-virus software she recently downloaded was blocking her access.

“I thought it was a user error. Or that my 10-year-old trainer was the issue,” she later said.

Glitches like these have been the figurative bumps in the road for Zwift and its 160,000 global users — whose tech-savvy and equipment vary as much as their cycling abilities. For Reis, a competitive mountain biker and cyclocross racer, Zwift makes indoor training during winter fun.

“Riding indoors is kinda bittersweet, but on days where I’m short on time I’ll ride Zwift,” said Reis, a hospitalist at St. Charles Bend who uses Zwift four times a week during cold and wet months. “Zwift makes you ride harder than riding on a trainer by yourself.”

Zwift’s virtual group rides and races — often happening several times an hour — mean Reis can get her race fix whenever her “competitive nature bubbles up.” She’s already joined Fearless, an international all-women’s racing team, which she encountered on one of several Zwift Facebook groups. She can communicate with them during rides or races by using Discord, a voice and text app designed for video gamers she accesses on her smartphone.

“It’s fun when you see the other people in the race, and you have a strategy,” Reis said. “It’s like cycling in real life but not at all.”

An international appeal

Zwift, a Los Angeles-based company, has experienced explosive growth since its founding in 2014. About 330,000 total users have tried it so far. For many cyclists like Reis and her husband, Tiago Reis, also a strong amateur racer, they read about Zwift on bicycle blogs before their friends began documenting their Zwift workout results on Strava, a social media website for athletes. In addition to a fictitious tropical island, Zwift workout locations include London and Richmond, Virginia. These surprisingly detailed and expansive landscapes — gamers, imagine Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas — are the result of Zwift’s revolutionary envisioning of stationary pedaling.

“Our challenge is getting people to reappraise what indoor cycling is. At the end of the day, we’d all want to ride our bike outdoors,” said Steve Beckett, the vice present of marketing and customer acquisition at Zwift. “Cyclists are quite serious people who tend to have a preconceived idea of what training indoors is like — ‘it’s a bit boring’ — but if you can ride indoors, you can be a better rider outdoors.”

Tripling its numbers each year, Zwift relies on word-of-mouth referrals from friends and coaches for half of its new sign-ups. Nevertheless, Zwift is expecting a user surge that will push them to 350,000 by the end of March 2018. Eighty-eight percent of Zwifters are men. One out of 4 users are American, and 3,019 Oregonians are currently signed up. The Reises are two of 334 Zwift users in Bend, according to Beckett. He pointed to professional triathletes like Linsey Corbin and Jesse Thomas, both Bendites, as examples of world-caliber athletes lending their credibility to Zwift as a viable training platform. An early obstacle for Zwift founders, Beckett said, was making an exercise video game relevant to users whose average age is 38 — an age group that typically hasn’t touched a video game in at least 20 years.

“I probably hadn’t played a video game since I had an Atari,” Tiago, 47, said with a laugh. He began using Zwift this fall while recovering from some cracked ribs he sustained while mountain biking. He also anticipates using the program four times a week this winter when he’s not nordic skiing. Erin, who manages a 12-hour, seven-day-on, seven-day-off work cycle, is able to bang out hour-long sessions before work, including competing in the all-women Saturday race that begins at 4:30 a.m.

“Zwift gives us a lot of flexibility and access to customize our workouts,” she said.

Dangling, digital carrots

During a recent workout, Reis pedaled through an aquarium corridor in the tropical fantasy land called Watopia. On the screen, her heart rate and wattage output is displayed above the head of her avatar, which she customized to sport blonde, athletically-cut hair to match her own.

“Look, there’s a huge sting ray!” she said as one flitted by a sunken pirate ship. For such amusing distractions to an otherwise uneventful workout, users pay $15 each month based on a subscription model similar to Netflix. Erin enjoys the dangled “carrots” that can include video-game like “PowerUps” and give her temporarily improved aerodynamics or heightened drafting abilities while riding behind competitors. Users are alerted they’ve scored a course record when their jerseys turn green or become polka-dotted. All the while other users’ avatars zip by, their names and nationalities wave in banners above their heads. Zwift users don’t have to worry about steering as they might in a conventional video game, but they can select left or right at forks in the road and explore virtual worlds ribboned with hundreds of miles of cumulative routes.

But Zwift’s bells and whistles aren’t just for fun. At its heart, Zwift supports serious training regimens. Coaches who customize workouts with software such as Training Peaks or PerfPRO Studio can easily upload files into the Zwift platform, as does Cody Peterson, Erin’s coach at Bowen Sports Performance in Bend. Like other Bowen clients, Reis can tackle Peterson’s detailed and challenging workouts with the amusing distraction of Zwift, either at the studio or at home.

“Zwift has a built-in following,” said Peterson, also a bike fitter and former professional mountain biker. “Before, we were looking at people who just wanted to come in and train. Zwift takes that to another level. It’s huge, a global situation. There is a constant stream of (thousands) of people on Zwift to ride with.”

This online global community makes stationary training a social affair. Riders can interact with those toiling in the same room as them — or others cranking in real-time a hemisphere away.

“It’s not like riding on the trainer, which you’re doing solely for training,” he said. “People ride Zwift for enjoyment. People like riding Zwift.”

Bowen Sports Performance began channeling its training sessions through Zwift last winter for groups of six. Clients hook their bikes up to any of the studio’s 12 high-end Wahoo Fitness Kickr trainers. Clients can even remotely participate in Bowen’s Zwift group sessions from their smart trainers at home. Soloists can do a “Zwift hour,” assuming they’ve already opened an account with the game maker and supply their own IOS-equipped gadgetry — Bowen has only one loaner laptop. This winter, Peterson expects to see 50 to 100 clients complete their Bowen-made training regimes through the program.

During workouts, Reis enjoys meeting goals that Peterson sets for her as much as she enjoys earning Zwift “gold stars,” as one does on elementary school sticker boards. Her growing Zwift mileage earns her the ability to unlock fancier and faster bikes and wheels for her avatar.

“Isn’t that dorky? It’s another carrot to chase,” she said with a laugh. “For some people, it can get addicting.”

Zwift or bust

On Zwift, competition knows no bounds. Last month, New Zealander Ollie Jones, 21, scored a professional cycling contract with his performances in Zwift Academy, an international indoor and on-road cycling tournament.

Locally, age is not a determining factor for enthusiasm and accomplishment. The Zwift efforts of elite masters cyclist and coach Mike Larsen, 50, gained the attention of high-end race TeamODZ, a Zwift team prominently from Canada and the West Coast. Although he’s only met one of his teammates in person, he trusts them in a breakaway during any of the Zwift Academy races they compete in online.

“With a lot of these guys, we text, we have a Facebook page. I have a pretty good rapport with these guys and I haven’t even met 95 percent of them in person,” said Larsen, who has competed in about 120 Zwift races and follows 40 Bend cyclists’ Zwift activities. The appeal isn’t lost on Larsen’s coaching clients, who use Zwift to compliment any indoor workout Larsen hands them.

“My clients are riding a half hour or an hour longer on Zwift because of the interactions,” he said. “For myself, I have done 10 five-hour-plus rides on Zwift — that’s the most miles I’ve ever logged on a trainer. If I’m not on Zwift, I don’t want to be on my trainer. I’d rather run.”

Coincidently, the game company will launch a beta version of Zwift Running — for those plodding on treadmills — in January.

Bend Bulletin: Local Runners Participate in ‘Maximalist’ Shoe Study

Published: April 20, 2018

Running may seem like a no-frills alternative to elaborate, gear-heavy activities, such as cycling or, say, ski mountaineering.

Just strap on some shoes and go, right?

The sport’s simplicity gets complicated when your legs and feet begin hurting — the cumulative effect of pounding them along pavement and trail.

The abuse adds up.

Enter the surge of “maximal” shoes. Introduced by Hoka One One in 2010, the French company’s extra-­cushioned running shoes were a stark rebuttal to the minimal running shoe trend — and its backlash. With millions of Hokas sold, other shoe manufacturers have begun releasing maximal offerings as well.

Dr. Christine Pollard, an Oregon State University-Cascades biomechanist and physical therapist found the maximal shoes curious. While much research had been dedicated to minimalist running shoes, Pollard’s new study on maximal shoes is the first to be conducted. Independent from any shoe manufacturer’s influence, Pollard enlisted more than 20 Central Oregon runners to participate in the study.

“In conventional running shoes, there is some cushioning in the forefoot. In most maximal shoes, midsole cushioning is nearly the same throughout the length of the shoe,” she said.

Pollard and Dr. JJ Hannigan, a post-doctoral researcher and runner, who co-investigated the research study at OSU-Cascades’ Functional Orthopedic Research Center of Excellence — or the FORCE lab — in the Therapeutic Associates physical clinic at The Center Orthopedic & Neurosurgical Care & Research.

The crux of the study: Does maximal shoes’ cushioning decrease the pressure with which their feet hit the ground? Or do runners mash their midsoles that much more because they can? And, with a proper transition from conventional running shoe to maximal shoes, can runners decrease the amount of strain on their legs?

“The big question is: What are these shoes doing?” Pollard said.

Pollard will present the findings of the study at her Science Pub talk, “The Biomechanics of Running Shoes — Is there an ‘ideal’ running shoe?” at Meadow Lakes Restaurant in Prineville on May 15. Her findings will also appear in the May issue of The Orthopaedic Journal of Sports Medicine.

From min to max

Running shoes originated in the late 19th century and resembled dress shoes for their stacked leather heels. They also featured spiked soles. The original modern running shoe is the New Balance Trackster, released in 1960, which featured a wavy tread pattern on the outsole, according to Runner’s World. Until the past decade, traditional running shoes’ midsoles featured 12 millimeters of midsole drop from the heel to the forefoot, Pollard said. This changed during the “barefoot” or minimal running craze that began in 2009. At the time, Pollard had recently finished her Ph.D. at the University of Massachusetts, where she conducted footwear testing for companies like New Balance and Brooks. The interest in minimal shoes was sparked by two factors: a study by Pollard’s mentor, Irene Davis, a doctor and director of the Spaulding National Running Center, and Christopher McDougall’s book “Born to Run,” which profiles a remote Mexican tribe that runs ultra distances while wearing sandals made from tires. These two factors made people wonder whether running shoes were over-engineered and enabled an exaggerated footfall called “heel striking” in the majority of runners. Shoes soon featured much thinner midsoles, which shoemakers said encouraged runners to land on the balls of their feet. One of the most extreme minimal shoes is the Vibram FiveFingers, glove-like footwear the company originally intended for water sports like rafting and kayaking. (Vibram settled a class-action lawsuit in 2014 for unsubstantiated claims of health benefits.)

“The thinking (during the minimal movement) was they would convert runners to forefront strikers, but that didn’t happen for the majority of individuals,” Pollard said.

During the height of the minimal craze, French company Hoka One One released its maximal shoe, which didn’t catch on until runners had felt duped or had injured themselves with minimal shoes.

Both converts and skeptics alike call maximal shoes marshmallows or clown shoes.

Runners are attracted to them for various reasons. Some are trying out the shoes, which retail between $100 and $150, as a last resort to mediate painful conditions, such as plantar fasciitis. Others are thinking about preventing injuries before they happen.

“I think generally the older someone gets the more attractive cushioning gets,” Hannigan said. “Generally people either love them or they hate them. Some people try them on, and they say they’re too heavy, they’re too clunky — it’s been very polarizing.”

While Pollard and Hannigan are mum on the study’s results, they did offer a peek at the findings. When subjects initially ran in maximal shoes, they proved to overcompensate for the cushioning, effectively pounding their feet harder because they could — like football players hitting harder as helmet and padding technology advances.

“We’re not sure if this only happens when they first try the shoes or if it’s going to keep happening after they’ve adjusted to them,” Hannigan said.

Mixed reviews

During a recent follow-up visit to the FORCE Lab, study participant and Bend ultrarunner Abbey Larkin, 29, strapped on a pair of Hoka One One Bondi 5s. The shoes are the most popular maximal shoe at FootZone. Larkin has put about 100 miles on the blue and purple Hokas, gradually running more mileage in the shoes each week. By the fifth and sixth weeks, participants were exclusively running in the maximal shoes, which only feature a 4 millimeter midsole offset from the heel to forefoot (a conventional off-set is 12 millimeters). After a warmup on the treadmill, Larkin stood while Hannigan and undergraduate OSU-Cascades kinesiology students attached a dozen reflective markers the size of peanut M&Ms on her pelvis, knees, ankles and toes. She then strode back and forth between eight infrared cameras, each time stepping on a force plate that measured impact. The collected data help Hannigan and Pollard study her form, particularly her “impact peak,” “loading rate” and “overall peak.” The higher a runner’s impact peak, for example, the greater odds of injury. The team also analyzed any change in a runner’s “pronation” or “supination” — which refers to how a runner’s foot laterally rocks when it connects with the ground. They juxtaposed the participants’ movements in the Hokas with what they observed when they ran in conventional running shoes that served as the study’s control.

Larkin began noticing maximal shoes on the feet of other runners at the ultra­marathons she began racing three years ago. Initially she was skeptical.

“At first I was opposed to the idea of wearing (that much cushioning) because minimalism was the norm at that point,” Larkin said. “But seeing so many people who run a lot wear that kind of shoe made me change my mind. They told me they don’t have as many running-related injuries” said Larkin, who had run in conventional running shoes since she discovered track in junior high. “At ultramarathons, about 50 percent of people are wearing Hokas.”

After six weeks with them, Larkin wasn’t quite sold.

“Right above my knees and quads, I have this achy pain,” said Larkin, who is training for the 50K Tillamook Burn Trail Run later this month. “I noticed at first that my quads are really tight, and I haven’t had that problem before.”

When Larkin runs uphill, the extra thick midsoles push her onto her toes, helping her posture, which has previously begun crouched. Track intervals also give Larkin pause as she readjusts her footfall to prevent the thicker midsole from dragging in the last moment of her footfall. A couple of weeks after the study concluded, the symptoms went away, even though Larkin wears the Hokas while running on trails. During track workouts, she opts for a conventional running shoe.

“(The Hokas) make hills feel easier, she said with a laugh, adding that she thinks she’ll wear them during her 50K race. “But maybe that’s just in my mind.”

On a nearby computer screen, the reflective, different colored clusters darted by with the same bouncy cadence as Larkin’s. Hannigan stood nearby, watching Larkin’s gait stream on his computer screen. Brightly colored dot clusters represented Larkin’s extremities.

Fellow participant Hayden Anker hung out after his testing session. Unlike Larkin, Anker enjoys his miles in the Hokas as he trains for his first ultra-distance event, the 50-mile Siskiyou Out Back Trail Run in Ashland. Anker, 27 and from Bend, began considering new footwear when his go-to brand Pearl Izumi stopped making running shoes in late 2016. He was skeptical of the maximal shoes almost as much as the minimal shoe trend — which he called a “crock of junk” — yet he was pleased with the Hokas. Even though his six-week testing period is over, Anker intends to keep wearing the maximal shoes and anticipates buying a new pair once these wear out.

“I was like, ‘Dang, these things are comfortable.’ I liked them. They have a nice cushion,” Anker said, adding that he hasn’t developed any aches or pains in wearing them. He noticed that his strike pattern now centers on the balls of his feet instead of on his heels.

“That’s a response to the shoe,” Anker said.

Pollard, who is also an OSU-Cascades associate professor and the FORCE Lab director, co-founded the space through partnerships with The Center and its foundation, Therapeutic Associates and OSU-Cascades, said she hopes her study will further people’s understanding of what goes into an ideal running shoe — for them.

“Everyone wants to know what the right shoe for them is. The more we can understand biomechanically how these shoes operate and what they’re doing for runners, the more capable we are in making recommendations about what will benefit them most,” Pollard said. “Right now, it’s mostly anecdotal evidence — people stating their experiences. But we have biomechanical tools. We know what biomechanical variables are associated with injury, and we should be making recommendations based on science and evidence rather than on (anecdotes).”