Ibex Sold to New York Investment Group

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Just a few months after Vermont-based apparel maker Ibex announced it would shut down, New York investment group Flourfund has purchased the intellectual property and assets.

David Hazan, who heads up the Flourfund, is a marketing specialist. His investment group has bought and re-branded several other companies—Bobcar, Solifornia, Quirky.com, and Peerform.

Hazan told Snews that he plans to focus on building Ibex’s direct-to-consumer sales, as well as exploring the possibility of licensing the Ibex brand to other “category experts” who can “expand the Ibex product offering.” This essentially means that Flourfund could contract with other manufacturers to make apparel and gear to be sold under the Ibex brand name. Outside reached out to Hazan, but he couldn't provide any information other than confirming that his firm was, in fact, the new owner of Ibex. Ibex founder Ted Manning did not respond to Outside’s request for comment.

The idea that Ibex—a brand loved by many in the outdoors community—might make a comeback is exciting. Founded in Vermont in 1997, Ibex was one of the first companies to import merino to the U.S. Back in December, in an elegy to the recently shuttered brand, Gear Guy Joe Jackson called Ibex “a merino wool pioneer” and opined over the brand’s honest, quality-driven approach to business. “I don’t recall the company using superlative product pitches or gimmicky proprietary space-age technologies,” he wrote. “Every Ibex product I’ve tested—about a dozen, likely more—was soft on the skin and stylishly cut and came with all the moisture-wicking and odor-quashing bonuses of high-end merino wool.”

The brand drew a loyal following for creating no-frills, capable apparel and driving innovation while maintaining its authenticity and small-town roots. 

So, should you be optimistic about the revival of one of the country’s original merino apparel brands? Cautiously, perhaps. Details are still vague. Flourfund has little experience and no current holdings in the outdoor space. Besides, the track record for small brands getting bought by investment groups doesn't inspire confidence. Apparel brand Cloudveil, which was founded by two skiers in Jackson, Wyoming, faded from the outdoor industry after it was sold to an investment group in 2010. “Cloudveil still exists, but a mass-market strategy and a symbolic move from Jackson to New Jersey have taken a toll on its prestige,” editor Chris Keyes wrote in 2015.

It's too soon to tell where Ibex is headed, but we'll update the story as more details emerge. 

Upgrade Your Gear Closet with These 10 Great Deals

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When you buy something using the retail links in our stories, we earn an affiliate commission that helps pay for our work. Read more about Outside’s affiliate policy.

Moosejaw's Almost Everything sale starts Tuesday and goes until April 8. Most products are at least 25 percent off, or you can use the code YAY20 to get 20 percent off a full-price item. Here are a few sale highlights our editors have their eyes on. 

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Although it packs down to the size of an orange, the Nano Puff hoody has kept our testers warm when temps drop to the 30s. Filled with high-loft synthetic insulation, the ripstop face fabric is treated with DWR to repel water.

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Perfect for the office or the crag, the merino wool Covert cardigan is style-oriented but with technical chops. Stash your credit card or chapstick in the zipper arm pocket. 

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One of our favorite backpacking packs year in and year out, the 75-liter Baltoro has the all the space you need to carry gear for a week in the backcountry. Plus, the removable internal hydration sleeve transforms into a daypack for summit bids.

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With plenty of room for extra layers, a first aid kit, and lunch, the Franconia also features a lumbar style hydration pack which helps center the weight on the hip and prevents water sloshing.

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Don't settle for warm water or cold coffee, invest in an insulated bottle and never look back. The extra-wide mouth of this Hydro Flask allows for easy filling and cleaning. 

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One of the most iconic tents ever made, the Hubba Hubba was redesigned in 2014 to make the lightest offering of the series yet. The designers also included color-coded stakeouts for easy setup. 

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This may just be the ultimate sleeping pad. The Dream's unique design combines an air mattress and a foam topper. It's hands down the most comfortable pad we've ever slept on.

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Weighing just 1.6 pounds, this chair can hold up to 320 pounds. The secret is a pairing of strong but light aluminum poles and tough 600 denier polyester fabric which creates a package that packs to the size of a Nalgene.

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Set yourself up for a summer full of adventures with the Ariel 65 backpack. It features women's specific touches, like extra padded S-shaped shoulder straps and a wide hip belt.

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Designed for life on the move, the 20-liter Roadie has a sturdy aluminum handle for easy transport. It has room for 16 cans inside, plus ice. 

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The Importance of Doing Absolutely Nothing

In these days of constant work and connection, taking time to do nothing is one of the most difficult agenda items. But it’s more important than ever.

In Artemis, our Airstream, Jen and I have put thousands of miles of road beneath us since August, crisscrossing the Rockies again and again. We never planned to travel so much, but engagements kept arising that we couldn’t pass up and before we knew it we were ping-ponging from place to place with nary a down day. This breaks one of my cardinal rules of Airstreaming—go slow—but we all know that, once we’re spun up, Newton’s first law is difficult to combat. 

Thinking back a year and a half to when we began this life on the road, we were full of hope for simplicity, slowing down, and more time outdoors. We’ve enjoyed plenty of that and found lots of remote office campsites in national forests across Arizona, Utah, New Mexico, and Colorado. But I’m also amazed at how quickly road life can accelerate out of control. Between meeting up with friends in half a dozen distant spots to camp, appointments for service on Artemis, trade shows and other work opportunities such as testing the new Basecamp, and a few travel assignments thrown in, I’ve felt like road life has been just as harried as when I'm at home—perhaps more so with the trailer to manage. Too many nights this fall, after full days of travel and logistics, I’ve found myself at the computer until 3 a.m. to get through my To Do list.

(Jen Judge)

Research says that I’m not alone. Having too much to do is a national epidemic and, in many ways, a status symbol. Americans work more hours than citizens of any other developed nation in the world, according to the International Labor Organization. On average, we annually work 137 hours more than the Japanese, 260 hours more than the Brits, and 499 hours more than the French. We’re so busy that many of us don’t even take time for vacation. According to a study by the US Travel Association’s Project Time Off, 54 percent of Americans didn’t use all of their vacation time last year, resulting in 662 million unused vacation days. “We are working more and more,” says Katie Denis, Vice President of Project Time Off. “Being the last car in the parking lot is no longer the metric. Now it’s who answers email fastest and latest.”

While it might seem comforting to know that everyone struggles with the constant tug of activity—misery loves company, after all—I actually find it depressing. If the collective sense is that we need to work more, do more, go more, that just makes it harder to stop. 

All this was stewing around in my head as we steered Artemis south toward Carlsbad las week for my public lands deer hunt. In recent years, hunting has been a reprieve for me to get out into the woods and away from the pressures of work, but with our schedule so stacked up this fall, it has started to feel like just another item on the list. We had only five days slated before we needed to be back north for another appointment. Even my free time felt like pressure.

Then came a windfall: I was lucky enough to find a good buck and fill my tag on day one. By the second morning after our arrival, all the work of the hunt was done, and I even managed to smash through a couple of overdue assignments that were stressing me out because I’d been unable to finish them sooner. Even still, I was antsy with momentum. “We should pack up and head back north now,” I told Jen. “I can get a jump on next week.”

(Jen Judge)

Jen was having none of it. “We should stay right here. This,” she said motioning out to the landscape before us, “is the whole reason we’re on the road in the first place.”

We had perched Artemis on a cleft of scraggly BLM desert with views over crenellated hills of sage and prickly pear. We could see no roads or structures or humans all the way to the horizon. At first, I wanted to grab my phone, read some news, dive back into my book. I even thought of going for a bike ride. But, at Jen’s urging, after I took my place out front of Artemis and sat still for a little while, I could feel the weight of stress and activity sinking out of me. Sitting in chairs, sipping wine, if we looked long enough, we could make out small herds of mule deer grazing in the sea of brown. At some point I dozed, and when I woke, a group of eight does were filtering by at less than 100 yards.

In these days of constant work and connection, taking time to do nothing is maybe one of the most difficult agenda items. But we’re continuing to discover that’s it’s more important than ever. Not only does down time bolster mental health by giving our brains time to unwind, it replenishes drive and creativity. Which is to say, working less and doing nothing can actually make work time more productive.

Down south in New Mexico, once I rediscovered a slower rhythm, I also remembered the second part of Newton’s Law—that an object at rest stays at rest. We spent a few more days and nights at that austere, high-desert camp, drawing out our morning coffee ritual till noon, taking long walks and longer naps, sitting beneath the milky belt of constellations till well after dark. When the time finally came that we had to go north, I felt, if not fully rejuvenated, at least a little less frenetic. After five days of sitting still, we had to return to Santa Fe for that appointment, there was no getting around it. But after that, I resolved, we’d leave the schedule open and find somewhere to park and just be. It’s easy to forget, but some of the best parts of being on the road are the rest stops.

The Vista Outdoors Boycott Was Doomed from the Start

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Aaron Naparstek, cycling advocate and founder of Streetsblog.org,  couldn’t believe how quickly the boycott of Vista Outdoor gained momentum, even though he basically started it. “I didn’t think it would blow up this big,” he says. “I just wanted to let people know that this company, essentially an arms manufacturer, also makes a lot of my favorite cycling gear.”

But within a day of his initial post on Twitter, on February 20, the thread gathered hundreds of likes and retweets. Some independent bike retailers, including prominent Portland, Oregon-based Sellwood Cycle, announced they were joining the boycott. The biggest move came when REI and its Canadian counterpart, MEC, separately announced on March 1 that they were pausing their relationships with Vista, “while we assess how Vista proceeds” as REI put it in their statement. 

Since that surge, however, things have been mostly quiet on the boycott front. Bell, Giro and other brands released carefully worded statements that the boycotters largely rejected as insufficient. After their initial statements, REI and MEC have remained silent on next steps, deadlines, or consequences. No other large cycling or outdoor retailer has joined the boycott, and most of the small, independent dealers I spoke with reported tepid interest from their customers about the movement.   

That may have less to do with the boycott’s goals than its approach. As even its participants admit, boycotting a gunmaker through its outdoor brands is a messy, imperfect thing, a product of frustration and inchoate rage at the seeming inability of America to do anything to address the deadly epidemic of U.S. gun violence. The boycott is such a charged issue that several sources for this story would only speak on background. But as much as the boycott’s flaws undermine its likelihood of success, they also point to a viable roadmap for future efforts.

The keys to a successful boycott are fairly simple. “For most boycotts, the goal isn’t to inflict economic harm but to get a company to change some problematic action,” says Tim Werner, an associate professor of business, government, and society at the University of Texas who studies consumer activism. The pressure point isn’t sales, Werner said; it’s damage to a company’s reputation via sustained media attention. Even so, Werner pointed out, boycotts are successful only about a quarter of the time.

So far, the Vista boycott has achieved widespread media exposure. Thanks largely to REI and MEC’s statements, news of the boycott ran in major news outlets, like the New York Times, USA Today, and on CNN and local TV stations. Sustaining it will be another matter altogether, and the Vista boycott has two key flaws that might blunt its effectiveness.

First, a boycott needs a clearly stated goal, Werner pointed out. But Naparstek’s catalytic tweetstorm said only that he would not buy products from Vista brands anymore. The largest REI-focused petition said only that its signers wanted REI to “stand by its values” and drop all Vista brands. There was no mention made of what would bring boycotters back to those brands. Neither REI nor MEC have said publicly what they’re asking of Vista. (REI did not respond to a request for comment for this story.)

It’s spectacularly unscientific anecdotal empiricism, but recently, I posted a poll on Twitter asking boycott supporters what they wanted. There, and in my discussions with consumers and retailers, sentiment coalesced around two top goals: first, Vista should cease funding the NRA, in particular its advertising support of NRATV. Second, Vista should stop selling military-grade arms like AR-15s to civilians. Both are tall orders. But neither was explicitly stated until I specifically asked.

Second, retailer pressure may muddy the issue. “In going after REI, the boycotters run the risk of confusing the public as to what they really want to achieve,” says Werner. Retailers I spoke with feel similarly. “We are caught in the middle,” says Russ Chandler, owner of Boulder’s Full Cycle, who supports the boycott’s goals and, taking a similar position as REI, is waiting on Vista’s response before determining future orders. But boycotting the bike brands, he thinks, is the wrong approach. “You just hurt people we want to support.”

Pat Cunnane, CEO of the large bike store chain Performance and the online retailer Bike Nashbar, says that while he’s sympathetic to the goal, his company’s decision to not join the boycott came down to a simple point: “This is not a decision we should make for our customers; consumers should make that choice.”

Even boycotting Vista’s non-shooting brands has flaws. The type of company most vulnerable to a boycott is one with a declining reputation. Vista’s shooting sales have slumped in the past year, but outdoor remains strong, and these brands are powerhouses. For a small independent dealer, Bell and Giro alone might account for as much as 10 percent of its total sales, according to a respected industry analyst I spoke with. CamelBak has close to 50 percent market share in hydration packs, he estimated. They’re so dominant because people really like the products. At Sellwood, which took a similar position to REI, owner Erik Tonkin said that his favorite all-time bike product is Copilot’s Taxi child carrier seat. “I’ve sold that for 20 years and own it myself and it pains me deeply that I might have to stop selling it,” he says. Many customers feel similarly. Even Naparstek, who is stoutly resolute about his boycott stance, expressed conflicted feelings. “I’d like to buy their products, obviously,” he says, adding that his Giro Aeon saved him from a head injury in a bad crash.

That affinity may dull the impact of the boycott, said Werner, because of an economic theory called stated versus revealed preference. Basically: I’ll say I won’t buy it, but if I need to, well, I might.

Vista has not responded publicly and may never do so. (It did not answer a request for comment for this story). The brand seems to be waiting to see if the boycott has any legs, if it causes them actual or reputational harm. It’s probably a smart approach.

Most dealers participating in the boycott have just paused—not dropped—orders with the Vista brands. As the industry analyst I spoke with pointed out, if shops drop the brands, they may not be able to get them back. The other way to read this, multiple sources pointed out, is that engagement preserves leverage; if REI had totally severed its ties, there would be little point for Vista to respond.

But boycotts aren’t the only way to engage. As columnist Joe Nocera argued in Bloomberg, shareholder activism might be more effective. And consumers may have a powerful ally in institutional investor BlackRock, which manages more than $6 trillion in assets. In January, CEO Larry Fink issued an open letter that effectively repudiated a nearly 50-year-old piece of received wisdom called the Friedman doctrine, which holds that a corporation’s sole responsibility is to increase shareholder value. In Fink’s letter, he outlined a new model where companies must consider their role in the community, environmental impact, and responsibilities to its employees.

On March 2, the company sent a letter to Vista Outdoor and the other two large publicly traded gunmakers, essentially asking them how they were addressing issues like gun safety, education, and liability. Vista, at least, has not responded publicly yet, but as BlackRock owns 12.75 percent of the company through its index funds, you can bet the letter got Vista’s attention. BlackRock also said it is exploring index funds that omit gunmakers. Between BlackRock and other large asset managers like State Street (which has also said it plans to engage with gunmakers), Fidelity, and Vanguard, which manage retirement and brokerage accounts for tens of millions of Americans and collectively own almost 40 percent of Vista Outdoor’s stock, shareholder activism is a potentially powerful tool.

The question boycotters might ask now is where to focus their pressure. Among the sources I spoke with, a central irritant emerged: the NRA, perceived by many as a divisive, extremist voice. “I don’t think mainstream America should be supporting that,” says Naparstek. Chandler: “The NRA lies to America and has a stranglehold on politics.” “The NRA now is very hardcore and doesn’t speak for all gun owners,” said Cunnane.

It may be too ambitious to demand that Vista stop manufacturing firearms, even specific types of firearms like the AR-15. But one of the central goals of the movement swelling out of the Stoneman Douglas shooting is the marginalization of the NRA as a mainstream voice in American society.

We have seen, recently and vividly with the #MeToo movement, that social norms can change dramatically and quickly. Parkland may be another such moment, and although it seems too early to tell, tens of thousands of students walked out of class last Wednesday morning in protest of gun violence, and more marches happen nationwide on Saturday. If it is, then the NRA’s voice and power in American politics and civic life may finally be in peril.

A boycott that focused on that goal might, as a part of that larger movement, achieve its aim.

We Shouldn’t Care Where a Runner Is Born

For one thing, it’s un-American

If the events of the past few weeks are anything to go by, the remarkable showing by American distance runners at last summer’s Olympics was no fluke. On Sunday, Shalane Flanagan took control over the final three miles of the New York City Marathon to become the first American woman to win since Miki Gorman in 1977. Last month, Galen Rupp won the Chicago Marathon, while, in the same race, his Oregon Project teammate Jordan Hasay notched the second fastest time ever run by an American woman. 

Rupp's win in Chicago had some historical significance as well. The last U.S. man to break the tape in Grant Park was Khalid Khannouchi in 2002. However, unlike Rupp, who grew up in Oregon, Khannouchi was born in Morocco and immigrated to the United States in the early 1990s, officially becoming a citizen in 2000. As I’ve noted elsewhere, LetsRun.com deemed this distinction significant enough to herald Rupp’s victory with the headline: “American Galen Rupp Wins 2017 Chicago Marathon—First American-Born Winner in 35 Years.”

Rather than leaving it at that, the website took it a step further in its post-race analysis by positing that Rupp’s victory could also be viewed as a triumph in an unofficial distance-running battle of the continents, pitting African runners against, well, everyone else:

While Khalid Khannouchi and Meb Keflezighi have delivered plenty of incredible performances for the U.S., a win of this magnitude by a non-African-born American has been a long time coming, and it’s never happened during the current era of Kenyan/Ethiopian dominance. Rupp’s win wasn’t just big for the U.S.; it was big for the rest of the world, as well. It had been almost nine years since a man born outside of Africa had won a World Marathon Major (Marilson Gomes dos Santos in New York in 2008). Rupp’s win today was a breakthrough, but it remains to be seen whether he is a generational talent or if his win can open the doors for other non-Africans to contend on the sport’s biggest stages.

On the one hand, this can be read as an innocuous acknowledgement of (East) African dominance in distance running; for a stark example of the latter, check out this comprehensive list of the fastest marathons ever run. More problematically, one could argue that creating an African-born vs. non-African-born binary imposes racial categories, and, needless to say, the historical precedents here are not good. To put matters in these terms also addresses distance running’s perpetual elephant in the room: whether or not, and to what degree, race and/or ethnicity signifies a “natural” competitive advantage.

No wonder, then, that some members of the running community were critical of LetsRun’s headline:

It’s certainly not the first time the issue has come up.

When Meb Keflezighi won the New York City Marathon in 2009, he was the first American man to accomplish the feat since 1982. Meb, however, was born in what is now Eritrea and came to the United States as a 12-year-old—a fact that led some to downplay the significance of his NYC win. Sports reporter Darren Rovell was called out at the time for equating Keflezighi with the “ringer who you hire to work a couple hours at your office so that you can win the executive softball league.” Rovell subsequently apologized, noting that, among other things, he “didn’t account for the fact that virtually all of Keflezighi’s running experience came as a U.S. citizen.” (Yesterday, Breitbart.com published a story about Shalane Flanagan’s NYC win–subtitle: “Shalene [sic] Flanagan made American long-distance runners great again on Sunday”—which erroneously claimed she was the first American to win the race since Salazar in ’82.) 

More recently, British national Mo Farah, who was born in Somalia but moved to London as a child, has had an on-and-off feud with fellow British distance runner Andy Vernon since the 2014 European Championships. At that meet, after Farah and Vernon took gold and silver, respectively, in the men’s 10,000 meters, Vernon facetiously intimated that he was the real European champion. Farah was not amused. (Part of the fallout from this was a rather embarrassing Twitter spat between two grown men.) To make matters worse, when Farah set the European record in the half marathon in 2015, the erstwhile record holder, Fabian Roncero of Spain, protested that Farah had really set the record for Somalia.

Regardless of whether it’s invoked in blithe jesting or an ostensibly sincere effort to gauge the significance of an athletic achievement, the notion that certain citizens might somehow be more European (or American) than others is always troubling. For one thing, who has the authority to arbitrate that question?

Let’s hope it’s not Fabian Roncero.

“For me, an athlete who was born in Kenya is Kenyan, and one born in Somalia is Somali forever,” Roncero said in response to Farah’s half marathon record. While there is much to object to in the idea that your birth nation defines your destiny—for what it’s worth, Frank Shorter, the last American man to win gold in the Olympic marathon, was born in Germany, while Miki Gorman was born in China to Japanese parents—what’s striking from a U.S. perspective is how this goes against one of the core beliefs this country has about itself: In this fair land, you can become anything you want to become. At least by the lofty standard of this idealized national self-narrative, fretting over whether a U.S. athlete was actually born here seems fundamentally un-American.

My suspicion is that Roncero doesn’t really care that Mo Farah wasn’t born in Europe so much as that he was born in a part of the world that made him the winner of an alleged genetic lottery. I think that’s also what underlies the whole American-born vs. African-born “debate.” (Not to mention that these geographical areas each encompass a wide variety of ethnicities.) At present, there is no evidence of a single genetic factor conferring distance-running talent, and the prevailing wisdom seems to be that physiological traits are only one part of the puzzle of why certain Kenyan and Ethiopian runners are so good. (For more on this, see chapter 12 of David Epstein’s excellent book The Sports Gene.)

It’s also worth keeping in mind that someone like Roncero, whose half marathon PR is 59:52, clearly won the genetic lottery as well. So did Galen Rupp. We would never think of trying to categorize these athletes on the basis of whatever physical traits make them well suited to excel in endurance events. (Can you imagine framing a competition along the lines of, say, ectomorphs vs. mesomorphs?) By dwelling on an athlete’s country of birth, what we’re doing here is not so different. This is not a path we want to go down.

5 Stylish Helmets for Your Bike Commute

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When you buy something using the retail links in our stories, we earn an affiliate commission that helps pay for our work. Read more about Outside’s affiliate policy.

For years, you had two options for a bike helmet: a sleek and aerodynamic road helmet that suggested you probably spent your free time shaving your legs, or a clunky thing that made you look like a five-year-old in a hand-me-down lid. Thankfully, helmet-makers have adopted a more stylish approach to design recently. Here are five commuter helmets that are so good looking, you’ll actually want to wear them.


Is the gold ostentatious? Hell yes, but that’s why we love it. Also, the retro cut makes us feel like we're in a ‘60s motorcycle gang. And that’s what riding bikes is all about, right?

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Plenty of vents keep you cool while liquid foam increases the strength to weight ratio but it’s the removable flip visor that we dig the most.

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This lid has a women's specific design and is covered in hand-stitched faux crocodile leather.

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The wood grain shell of this helmet is unique but it also has technical chops including 16 vents, leather straps, and a one-handed magnetic buckle system.

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This helmet is as much about function as form. The Messenger has glow in the dark hits and a rear blinking LED light to make you as visible as possible on your way home from happy hour.

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Don’t Let Pollution Stop You from Exercising

Click:block making machine
You can tweak your workout to minimize the downsides of sucking on a tailpipe

“Exercise is good,” explained Michael Koehle, head of the University of British Columbia’s Environmental Physiology Lab. “On the other hand, air pollution is bad.”

Seems like a pretty basic message. That’s precisely the point Koehle was trying to make as he kicked off his talk at a recent International Triathlon Union–sponsored conference in Edmonton. He’s used to giving talks about controversial topics like platelet-rich plasma therapy, where, after carefully outlining the gaps and contradictions in the evidence, all the questions afterward are along the lines of “How much does it cost, and where can I get it?” So, as Koehle prepared to dig into the intricacies of the current literature on exercising in polluted air, he wanted to make sure we all had a firm grasp of the fundamentals.

In a perfect world, of course, we would all be riding on remote desert highways or car-free mountain passes and running along Edenic forest trails. But that’s not reality for most of us. I live in a city of 4 million people, and the health toll incurred by all the cars, trucks, and smokestacks is well established. It’s not just respiratory conditions like asthma; hospital admissions for heart disease, as well as subsequent deaths, track up and down in sync with ambient levels of air pollution. This year’s wildfires have sullied the air up and down the West Coast, Koehle pointed out, so big cities aren’t the only danger zone.

The question for any outdoor exerciser: When do the benefits of physical activity get washed out, or even reversed, by the negative effects of air pollution? There’s no simple, universal answer. But research by Koehle and others offers some useful insights.

Pre-Exposure Matters

In 2012, Koehle and his student Luisa Giles studied the effects of breathing polluted air for an hour before a 20K cycling time trial. Pre-exercise exposure resulted in a higher heart rate and less-dilated airways, though it didn’t produce a significant decrease in performance. In some respects, Koehle says, the effects were bigger than they saw in subsequent studies with cyclists breathing pollution during the time trial. The takeaway? Be mindful of the air you’re breathing before a workout or competition. Commuting across town so you can work out indoors may not be a winning strategy.

For a similar reason, Koehle recommends that athletes with asthma take their medication consistently, “because pollution is 24 hours a day, not just during exercise.”

It’s OK to Hammer

When you exercise, you breathe more deeply, bypassing the nasal filters (that is, your nose hairs) and sending higher volumes of polluted air deeper into your lungs. Sounds bad—and sounds like a reason that if you must exercise in bad air, you might want to at least take it easy.

That’s the assumption Koehle and Giles started with when they tested cycling in polluted air at two different intensities: 30 percent or 60 percent of peak power from a VO2max test. The higher intensity was tough enough that most of the subjects could barely finish the 30-minute ride. But the physiological tests showed virtually no difference in the effects of pollution between the two rides. In fact, it was only in the slower ride that respiratory parameters like the amount of air breathed in and out were elevated by the air pollution. As a result, if you’re going to exercise in bad air, you may be better off sticking to shorter, more-intense workouts to minimize your overall exposure.

Location, Location

Avoidance is the best policy, so you should move your workout as far away—in time or space—as possible from the worst air. Pollution is generally lowest in the early morning and late evening; Koehle uses a French app called Plume to track and predict local air quality. Even small distances and barriers like trees can make a big difference in air quality. That’s one of the main reasons the city of Vancouver, where Koehle is based, puts a row of parked cars between bike lanes and car traffic. The decline in pollution levels as you move away from a road is exponential.

For what it’s worth, heading indoors isn’t necessarily a panacea. New carpets, ski wax, Zambonis, and even candles and incense in a yoga studio can all compromise air quality. You can minimize your exposure to these sources with a little planning, but it’s another reason not to shy away from heading outside.

Warm Up Your Lungs

One of Koehle’s previous research projects was investigating the performance-boosting potential of asthma medications for the World Anti-Doping Agency. Do illicit puffers give non-asthmatic athletes an edge? Actually, Koehle says, “We couldn’t even prove that asthma medication improved performance in asthmatics!”

The problem, they eventually concluded, is that all the athletes were getting a good warm-up as part of the study protocol. It turns out warming up well helps to ward off the decline in lung function that people with asthma or exercise-induced bronchoconstriction (a common airway problem in athletes that is distinct from asthma) often experience in polluted air. An effective warm-up protocol tested in research studies: 30-second sprints five to seven times at 80 to 90 percent of maximum intensity, with 1.5 to 2.5 minutes of rest.

Finding the Balance

When you combine exercise and pollution, the results obviously depend on the details of the dose. Overall, though, the picture is reasonably reassuring. A Danish analysis in 2015 followed 52,000 people for an average of 13 years, combining data on their exercise and lifestyle habits with a sophisticated street-by-street model of air pollution in Denmark, then analyzing the health outcomes. The results found that “exposure to high levels of traffic-related air pollution did not modify…[the] beneficial effects of physical activity on mortality.”

In fact, there’s some evidence that exercise may actually reverse some of pollution’s negative effects. After all, pollution is an inflammatory trigger, and exercise is an anti-inflammatory. In November, Brazilian researchers published a study in which mice inhaled several types of air pollutants while running on a treadmill or not exercising. The pollution caused inflammation in the airways and throughout the body, but exercise inhibited both these effects.

Is that sufficient to conclude that you can ignore air pollution? Definitely not. Pay attention to air quality, and make whatever adjustments you can to avoid the worst pollution. But don’t let it trump your training plans. “Exercise is good, pollution is bad,” Koehle concluded in his conference talk, “but in the battle, exercise just seems to have more power than air pollution.”


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Dry Winters Cost the Ski Industry $1 Billion

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It's been a bad winter for skiing. And more than just being a drag on weekend plans or limiting some resorts to operating with only a few runs (if any), less snow on the mountains is a big hit on the economy. People make fewer trips to the resort, which means resorts hire fewer staff. The local restaurants, bars, and hotels all feel a little empty.

A new report by Protect Our Winters (POW), a climate advocacy group based in Colorado, says a low-snow year can cost the ski resort industry more than $1 billion and 17,400 jobs, compared to an average season. These numbers result from comparing snowfall records with spending habits from 2001 to 2016, so they don’t even account for this winter, which has been the worst along the Rockies since the 1960s, when researchers started keeping detailed snowpack records. POW’s data has serious implications for the snow-sports industry. As climate change worsens and snowfall becomes less reliable, resorts see less business. If it gets too bad, some resorts might close altogether, which would have economic consequences far beyond the slopes.

“In mountain towns across the United States that rely on winter tourism,” the report says, “snow is currency.”

Resorts this year in the Sierra Nevada, Idaho, and Canada have closed early or shut down entirely because of low snow. Others have relied heavily on snowmaking machines. And some resorts have had to rethink how they approach low-snow seasons, like in Lake Tahoe, where the Heavenly Mountain Resort says it will blow up and then clear boulders on some runs to make it easier to ski with less snow. “The height of these natural features can require up to five feet or more of snow coverage before runs can be opened,” according to the resort’s master plan. “During low snow years, a great deal of energy and water resources for snowmaking is required to provide enough snow on these trails so they can be safely opened.”

In 2016, more than 20 million people skied, snowmobiled, or snowboarded. And according to POW, these people added $11.3 billion to the U.S. economy through buying gear, resort tickets, hot chocolate at the lodge, hotel rooms, gas, groceries, restaurant meals, and drinks in bars. In a good season with plenty of snow, that figure can go way up.

The logic that drives the number in the report is pretty intuitive. Falling snow is the best marketing for ski resorts, and according to POW’s report, a season with good snow adds $692.9 million to the U.S. economy and more than 11,800 extra jobs because people visit resorts more often. Low-snow seasons have the opposite effect. POW’s study shows that although roughly the same number of people visit resorts each year regardless of the snow level, they make about 10 percent fewer trips. California is the most sensitive to that fluctuation. In a good season, high snow levels could add $175 million to the economy. A poor season, however, cuts $250 million.

Thanks to climate change, big swings in the weather are predicted to get much worse. About two generations into the future, by 2080, the average temperature in the Rocky Mountains during ski season is expected to rise nine degrees, which will lead to 16 percent less snow, according to POW’s report. That means many fewer ski days overall. And in the southern Rockies of Colorado and New Mexico, it could spell the end for some resorts—which could devastate entire mountain-town economies.

Overall, the report reinforces what a lot of people working in or studying the winter-recreation industry assumed. Quantifying the difference between a good and bad snow season gives resorts and climate advocates tools to help argue for cutting carbon emissions, or at the very least gives them a reason to further study the effects of climate change. If money is motivation, losing $1 billion to a bad season should provide plenty. But while this might help discussion about climate change going forward, snowpack has been declining in the Rockies for more than 30 years. Drier winters and shorter ski seasons will likely become the new norm.

“We know the facts,” the POW reports concludes, “and need not lay them out again here in detail: snowfall is diminishing, and the economic consequences are severe. The rising monetary toll is dwarfed by the emotional insult of a lifestyle in decline.”

It's Time to Disband the U.S. Olympic Committee

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On Wednesday, Scott Blackmun resigned as chief of the United States Olympic Committee. The public rationale: health problems. Blackmun had been recently diagnosed with prostate cancer.

But anyone following the news surrounding this beleaguered organization knows that this was nothing more than an inevitable public relations move. The organization has been taking heavy fire of late, for both its chronic mishandling of sex abuse scandals in several Olympic sports and for the lavish salaries and bonuses it hands out to employees, while leaving athletes to essentially fend for themselves. The ranks of critics calling for Blackmun’s resignation had only been growing. Parting ways with the face of the organization was a good move, but the USOC has yet to do anything serious enough to change its culture or signal that it’s committed to protecting American athletes. Doing that will require a complete reimagining of the entire structure of U.S. Olympic sports.

First, let’s review the tape. Top leadership of the USOC, as well as the leadership of USA Gymnastics, that sport’s governing body, knew in 2015 that team doctor Larry Nassar was suspected of sexually assaulting young female gymnasts. Yet both stayed quiet even as the F.B.I. began eyeing Nassar in July of that year. It was only the reporting of the Indianapolis Star that finally dragged Nasser out into the light. The paper’s September 12, 2016 story exposed rampant abuse of athletes that included vaginal and anal penetration with his fingers, touching breasts, and rubbing genitals. During that year that the USOC remained publicly silent, 40 young women were sexually abused. The shame of the USOC, and of Blackmun, can never be smoothed away.

But the ripples of shame go far beyond USOC headquarters. USA Gymnastics not only kept silent about Nassar. It possessed 54 files on personnel suspected of sexual abuse. When the parent of a gymnast accused Nassar, its then-president, Steve Penny, allegedly urged her to tell no one and allow the organization to alert authorities. It was the Boston Catholic church abuse scandal all over again. In late January, the entire board of the organization was forced to resign, far too late to help any of the victims.

The corruption doesn’t stop with the USOC or gymnastics, either. In 2014, two years before Nassar was exposed, this magazine published a searing story by Rachel Sturtz detailing how USA Swimming, that sport’s governing body, stymied sexual abuse victims and wove a culture of cover-up going back decades. Four years before that, ESPN ran an investigation of USA Swimming on its Outside the Lines show.

The rot underlying all these scandals is built into the structure of the so-called “Olympic movement,” a teetering edifice managed by the International Olympic Committee. Legally, the IOC is a non-profit, private organization based in Switzerland. In reality, it’s a giant sports entertainment production company that, like many businesses, would like to enforce a monopoly. It cares deeply about its brand. Stories highlighting rampant sexual abuse, doping scandals, and corrupt business practices damage that brand. And so, like all companies, the IOC engages in an enormous amount of ass-covering and revisionist history, everything from hiding the fascist backgrounds of its former beloved leaders to the papering over of the biggest doping scandal since the days of East Germany—the state-sponsored cheating by Russia that was exposed at great personal risk by whistleblowers. What did those whistleblowers get for that courage? The IOC’s “Olympic Athletes from Russia” farce during the Pyeongchang games. That, naturally, was followed by Russia’s quick reinstatement into the “Olympic family.”

The USOC is also a private organization, but it’s helpful to think of it more as the American subsidiary of the IOC. The American government, however, does not treat it like a business. With the 1978 Amateur Sports Act (now called the Ted Stevens Olympic and Amateur Sports Act), Congress chartered the USOC and gave it monopoly powers. The act was a Cold War-era response to the Iron Curtain’s sports superiority. It appoints the USOC to “serve as the coordinating body for amateur athletic activity in the United States directly related to international amateur athletic competition”; to “recognize eligible amateur sports organizations as national governing bodies for any sport that is included on the program of the Olympic Games or the Pan-American Games”; and to “facilitate, through orderly and effective administrative procedures, the resolution of conflicts or disputes that involve any of its members and any amateur athlete, coach, trainer, manager, administrator, official, national governing body, or amateur sports organization….”

The word “amateur” is now anachronistic—snowboarder Shaun White is  reportedly worth between $20 and $40 million—but the rules established by the act nonetheless still hold. If you’re an American athlete with elite international ambitions, or even elite national ambitions (outside of the NCAA), you have to deal with both the USOC and whatever national governing body the organization designates to rule over your sport, like USA Gymnastics or USA Swimming. That includes wearing whatever brand said governing body signs a lucrative deal with during Olympic competitions, even if it’s unlikely you’ll see much of that money or if it conflicts with the deal you’ve made with another sponsor that actually subsidizes your training.

The law also appears to allow the USOC and member governing bodies to investigate themselves. That’s how a tragedy on the scale of the Nassar abuse happens. Abused American athletes face a Catch-22. If you make noise, and enemies, inside USA Gymnastics, where will you go to compete in your sport? What happens to all the years of training, the money spent, the sacrifices made? So when the attorney from your governing body shoves a non-disclosure agreement under your nose—or your parents’ noses—and demands silence in exchange for a little cash under the explicit or implied threat of taking away your dream if you refuse, what do you do?

Replacing USOC’s chief executive does nothing to fix these problems. The solution? As Sally Jenkins wrote recently in the Washington Post: “Knock it down.” If the USOC really wants reform, it should give up its absolute power and dissolve itself. Congress should also get out of the business of appointing sports monopolies and rescind the Ted Stevens Act. The U.S. competed in the Olympics from 1896 through 1976 without an institutionalized USOC or a sports act. We’ll be fine without them.

Such bold actions aren’t likely, of course, but smaller revolutions are possible. One excellent step has already been taken. A new law makes it a crime for sports personnel to not report suspected sexual or other abuse. It also designates the United States Center for SafeSport, a creation of former Olympic swimmer Nancy Hogshead-Makar, as an independent investigator and clearing house for complaints.

The USOC could also ban non-disclosure agreements between individuals affiliated with clubs, governing bodies, and the USOC itself. It could give up its reliance on binding arbitration and allow American athletes to access the U.S. court system when disputes arise, as should be their right. That way, athletes would be better protected against retaliation from governing bodies for reporting suspected misbehavior.

In addition, USOC needs to put an end to its athlete ombudsman system, which is currently a sham. The ombudsman is part of the USOC itself, a clear conflict of interest. Instead, allow and encourage athletes to unionize with wholly independent unions to which they can go with suspicions of sexual assault or any other abuse. A global effort is already underway, but there could easily be a U.S.-only union for Olympic sports athletes, akin to the NFLPA or the MLBPA.

IOC and USOC leadership like to portray themselves as selfless do-gooders toiling for the sake of brotherhood through sports, but they can get rich doing it. Chuck Wielgus, the former executive director of USA Swimming, who, abuse victims allege, acted to protect the organization and not the athletes, made more than $900,000 a year. Blackmun made over $1 million. Those are the salaries of big business, putting the lie to the Olympic kumbaya pretense and underscoring yet again that athletes are “content” for a sports entertainment complex. Speed skaters, skiers, swimmers, runners, pole vaulters are part of “NBCUniversal’s long-term growth strategy.” Against that complex, they have too few rights and protections. Which is how girls can wind up in the hands of a Larry Nassar. Don’t expect any of that to change just because Scott Blackmun has resigned.

Zinke Rolls Over on National Park Fee Hikes

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It looks like interior secretary Ryan Zinke has abandoned his plan to double entrance fees to the most popular national parks. Zinke’s original announcement, in October, meant a summer road trip through Zion or Joshua Tree would soar from $25 to $70 a car, an increase Zinke said was necessary to fund the National Park Service’s $12 billion maintenance backlog. Zinke defended his plan against a swarm of anger as late as last month, telling a dubious congressional committee that fee hikes were necessary to offset senior discounts. 

“When you give discounted or free passes to elderly, fourth-graders, veterans, disabled, and you do it by the carload, there’s not a whole lot of people who actually pay at our front door,” Zinke said.

Vietnam Veterans of America called Zinke’s logic “small minded and mean spirited.” The National Association for Disabled People Groups followed that by calling his comments “uninformed, hurtful, and frankly unconscionable.” And when representative Anthony Brown, a Democrat from Maryland, asked Zinke how many carloads of discounted visitors were responsible for bankrupting our parks, Zinke said that, in fact, the Department of the Interior (DOI) didn’t keep track.

Zinke had struggled from the start to explain his arithmetic. The fee increases would raise $70 million annually, which is a tenth of what the Park Service needs just to keep the backlog from growing each year. The plan never added up. Maybe that’s why conservative and liberal politicians wouldn’t get on board, but the final dagger seems to have come from the public. 

Zinke allowed for just 30 days of public comment. (By comparison, the Park Service allowed seven months when it successfully proposed a much smaller increase in 2015.) In that time, more than 100,000 people responded, nearly all of them opposed to the fee hike. 

“Seventy dollars is insane!” one commenter wrote, according to a list obtained by The Washington Post.

“I know if I were considering a trip to one of these parks and suddenly found that the trip would incur an exorbitant entrance fee, I would not … take my family on this trip,” another wrote.

This doesn’t mean that Zinke has given up completely on the idea. There are currently about 100 parks that charge for entry, and a DOI official who spoke to the Post off the record said that the department is still considering a 10 percent fee increase for those parks and a $20 increase to the $80 annual pass. 

Still, rolling over on his initial plan was the second major loss for Zinke in the past two months, and it seems to have been doomed by the same faults that tanked his proposed massive reorganization of the DOI: poor tact and bad planning. Not only would Zinke’s plan fail to make a dent in the backlog, but President Trump’s 2018 budget proposal, rolled out early last year, included $400 million in cuts to the Park Service, essentially making the shortfall even larger. Congress didn't move on that recommendation, but combined with Zinke’s fee hikes, it seemed like the administration was trying to stick taxpayers with the tab; meanwhile, Trump has requested hundreds of billions in extra spending for the Pentagon.  

Then there were the optics. In the Post article, Rich Dolesh, vice president of the National Recreation and Parks Association, said that a study his group conducted found that people who earned $30,000 or less per year were the most likely to cancel trips as a result of fee hikes. Zinke never said so, but limiting access—or at least spreading out the crowds—seems to have been part of the plan. “Some of our principal parks are loved to death,” he said in March at the congressional committee hearing. Not everyone thought it was a bad idea. Slate even argued that the fee hikes would help the parks: “People turned off by the increase will (wisely!) move their trips to the offseason, where prices will remain at current levels, crowds are thinner, lodging is easier to find, and the scenery is just as stunning. Or they’ll look to one of the other 400 NPS sites to visit, giving those 17 popular kids a breather.”

Of course, the problem with that logic is that, during the time of year when most people want to get outside, Zinke’s plan would turn the most popular parks into VIP lounges for the well-to-do—a very un-American distortion of what’s supposed to be America’s best idea. 

The larger issue is that Trump, Zinke, and Congress as a whole simply refuse to properly fund our parks. This administration has made it clear that it expects public lands to turn a profit, whether by revoking environmental protections to allow mining or by sticking tourists with the bill. The next big idea to fund the backlog is to pay it down through oil royalties. Zinke supports this strategy, although this plan also has problems with its arithmetic. And while public outrage defeated a flawed idea this time, it has failed to do so in the past. It could fail again in the future.