Sports technology has come a long way, this much we can be sure of. With all these advancements, though, is there a logical endpoint to keep ourselves from veering too far afield from the original activity itself? These debates rage on across sports—from instant video replay to ultra-high-tech garments to the aluminum baseball bat, camps of purists and tribes of those hell-bent on innovating the pain away are inevitably at odds.
And amid these heated disputes, gear companies still want to earn a buck. So, which side should they take, and how vigorously should they defend it?
The Vaporfly specs and product description on Nike’s website
Let’s take a look at one of the most controversial examples of the past two years. I was reminded of this larger question upon reading an excellent profile of ultra-marathoner Jim Walmsley, who, in working down from a winning stretch of 100km races, qualified for the Olympic marathon trials on his first attempt. Ultramarathons, as writer Joseph Bien-Kahn describes, are, “home to the gutsy eccentric; the marathon is home to the Type-A obsessive.” To elite runners, the marathon is, in fact, an incredibly precise art; as such, a new material used in running shoes can prove a disruptive technology with implications for Olympic committees and athletes alike.
The Nike Vaporfly was introduced in 2017, its description boasting words like, “ultra-lightweight” and “soft.” Pretty standard, all things considered, except it also promised the capability to, “provide up to 85 percent energy return.” Pretty quickly, these shoes became the object of scrutiny. You may remember the case of the Speedo LZR, an air-trapping swimsuit dawned by Michael Phelps in the late 2000s which is now banned in organized races. I reason that a lot more people are semi-competitive runners than swimmers, and thus the Vaporflys seem to be a slightly more complex issue for the masses.
Until now, there weren’t necessarily clear cut rules about what a running shoe could and couldn’t be; the framework shoe companies need to work within is, as noted by ex-pro Amby Burfoot, that, “shoes may not confer an “unfair advantage” and must be “reasonably available” to all.” That leaves a lot up to interpretation. Others, meanwhile, such as Umich PhD candidate and elite runner Geoff Burns, reason that there must be a standard thickness for the midsole of running shoes. This broader phenomenon has a name: ‘technology doping.’ Doping is, of course, a term that connotes something a corporate entity would likely want no part of.
The distinctly low-tech 1983 Boston Marathon. Photo by David L Ryan / Boston Globe
What’s curious, then, is that Nike seems to have doubled down on their product. The current ad campaign for the newest model still frames the shoes themselves as a ‘secret weapon.’ I think this might be the case for a couple of reasons; people like fairness, sure, but they also like winning and, moreover, making difficult tasks easier. I can relate, in a sense. Since taking up semi-serious running, I’ve set a goal of taking down a half marathon in 1:30—not an impossible feat by any means, but not an easy one, either. If a pair of shoes can help me hit that goal by even 20 seconds, I’d probably jump at the chance to lace them up so long as they don’t completely drain my bank account.
In the end, the Vaporfly was modified slightly and is set to be allowed in the Tokyo games this summer. And Nike, for what it’s worth, appears to be coming out the winner regardless. Matt Powell, a sports industry advisor, told Reuters bluntly: “controversy is good for sales.” Runners not vying for cash prizes can, of course, still wear these shoes, and their likeness popping up in the news has also spiked the prices on resale sites like StockX. Constant changes in sports gear, for better or worse, are here to stay, while world records won’t.