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How Does an Anti-Gravity Treadmill Work?

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alterg.com

The "anti-gravity treadmill" was originally invented by Robert Whalen, a biomechanics researcher at NASA Ames Research Center, in the 1990s.

Whalen knew that astronauts on the International Space Station have to exercise for hours each day to combat the loss of bone mass and muscle in microgravity. But the treadmill on the ISS has always left a lot to be desired. In lieu of gravity, it uses straps around the shoulders and hips to anchor the astronaut to the treadmill. The bungee system doesn't do a good job of replicating the magnitude or types of force that runners experience here on Earth. And to make matters worse, it's pretty uncomfortable to run in. Astronaut Sunita Williams, who was the first person to run the Boston Marathon in space, described her experience in a NASA press release: "During the marathon my foot sometimes went numb and tingly from the straps' pressure on my hip. Also, I had to use moleskin where the harness rubbed my neck raw."

NASA

Whalen designed a treadmill that would let astronauts run in a more natural way. The design, patented in 1992, encloses a treadmill and the astronaut's lower body in an airtight chamber. Lowering the air pressure inside the chamber pushes the astronaut down, simulating gravity. Whereas the ISS's old treadmill allowed Williams to run on about 60 percent of her Earth weight, Whalen's treadmill would have allowed her to exercise at her normal Earth weight. That's important for keeping the muscles and bones healthy for when astronauts get home.

But Whalen's idea never made it off the ground. In 2005, the technology was licensed to a company called AlterG, which appears to have coined the term "anti-gravity treadmill." Instead of adding weight to astronauts in space, AlterG uses the technology to take the weight off of rehab patients recovering from leg and foot injuries.

NASA

AlterG's product looks like a bounce house for your lower body. To use it, you put on a pair of tight neoprene shorts. The shorts have a sort of skirt attached, and the skirt is lined with zipper teeth. You step onto the treadmill, inside a hole in its plastic casing, and zipper yourself in so that, from the waist down, you're encased in an airtight plastic bag. As you stand there, the treadmill measures your weight, and you tell it how intense you want your workout to be. The the machine uses "unweighting technology" to make you feel up to 80 percent lighter—so if you weigh 100 pounds, you could feel as light as 20 pounds on the treadmill. The terms "anti-gravity" and "unweighting technology" are enthusiastic descriptions for what the machine actually does, which is inflate the plastic bag around your lower body to lift you off the surface of the treadmill.

Despite its perhaps overhyped name, the anti-gravity treadmill seems to be doing good things in physical rehab clinics, because it allows patients to exercise without exacerbating an injury. Here's NASA's glowing review of the anti-gravity treadmill:

Professional and college sports teams across the United States feature the AlterG treadmill in their training facilities. Injured soldiers walk and run with the technology’s assistance at military hospitals and rehabilitation centers. Seniors get essential exercise using the support the machine provides, as do people with bariatric weight issues who cannot normally support their own weight. The treadmill has been a proven option for neurological uses as well, including helping patients re-learn proper balance and gait and transition to independent movement after traumatic brain injury.

A variety of peer-reviewed studies also suggest it helps people get back on their feet again.

A true anti-gravity machine—one that is not acted on by gravity—would of course have even more exciting applications, particularly in spaceflight. Unfortunately, for now at least, those machines only work in science fiction.

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Big Questions
Why Do Cats Freak Out After Pooping?
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Cats often exhibit some very peculiar behavior, from getting into deadly combat situations with their own tail to pouncing on unsuspecting humans. Among their most curious habits: running from their litter box like a greyhound after moving their bowels. Are they running from their own fecal matter? Has waste elimination prompted a sense of euphoria?

Experts—if anyone is said to qualify as an expert in post-poop moods—aren’t exactly sure, but they’ve presented a number of entertaining theories. From a biological standpoint, some animal behaviorists suspect that a cat bolting after a deposit might stem from fears that a predator could track them based on the smell of their waste. But researchers are quick to note that they haven’t observed cats run from their BMs in the wild.

Biology also has a little bit to do with another theory, which postulates that cats used to getting their rear ends licked by their mother after defecating as kittens are showing off their independence by sprinting away, their butts having taken on self-cleaning properties in adulthood.

Not convinced? You might find another idea more plausible: Both humans and cats have a vagus nerve running from their brain stem. In both species, the nerve can be stimulated by defecation, leading to a pleasurable sensation and what some have labeled “poo-phoria,” or post-poop elation. In running, the cat may simply be working off excess energy brought on by stimulation of the nerve.

Less interesting is the notion that notoriously hygienic cats may simply want to shake off excess litter or fecal matter by running a 100-meter dash, or that a digestive problem has led to some discomfort they’re attempting to flee from. The fact is, so little research has been done in the field of pooping cat mania that there’s no universally accepted answer. Like so much of what makes cats tick, a definitive motivation will have to remain a mystery.

Have you got a Big Question you'd like us to answer? If so, let us know by emailing us at bigquestions@mentalfloss.com.

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Big Questions
Why Do Baseball Managers Wear Uniforms?
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Basketball and hockey coaches wear business suits on the sidelines. Football coaches wear team-branded shirts and jackets and often ill-fitting pleated khakis. Why are baseball managers the only guys who wear the same outfit as their players?

According to John Thorn, the official historian of Major League Baseball since 2011, it goes back to the earliest days of the game. Back then, the person known as the manager was the business manager: the guy who kept the books in order and the road trips on schedule. Meanwhile, the guy we call the manager today, the one who arranges the roster and decides when to pull a pitcher, was known as the captain. In addition to managing the team on the field, he was usually also on the team as a player. For many years, the “manager” wore a player’s uniform simply because he was a player. There were also a few captains who didn’t play for the team and stuck to making decisions in the dugout, and they usually wore suits.

With the passing of time, it became less common for the captain to play, and on most teams they took on strictly managerial roles. Instead of suits proliferating throughout America’s dugouts, though, non-playing captains largely hung on to the tradition of wearing a player's uniform. By the early to mid 20th century, wearing the uniform was the norm for managers, with a few notable exceptions. The Philadelphia Athletics’s Connie Mack and the Brooklyn Dodgers’s Burt Shotton continued to wear suits and ties to games long after it fell out of favor (though Shotton sometimes liked to layer a team jacket on top of his street clothes). Once those two retired, it’s been uniforms as far as the eye can see.

The adherence to the uniform among managers in the second half of the 20th century leads some people to think that MLB mandates it, but a look through the official major league rules [PDF] doesn’t turn up much on a manager’s dress. Rule 1.11(a) (1) says that “All players on a team shall wear uniforms identical in color, trim and style, and all players’ uniforms shall include minimal six-inch numbers on their backs" and rule 2.00 states that a coach is a "team member in uniform appointed by the manager to perform such duties as the manager may designate, such as but not limited to acting as base coach."

While Rule 2.00 gives a rundown of the manager’s role and some rules that apply to them, it doesn’t specify that they’re uniformed. Further down, Rule 3.15 says that "No person shall be allowed on the playing field during a game except players and coaches in uniform, managers, news photographers authorized by the home team, umpires, officers of the law in uniform and watchmen or other employees of the home club." Again, nothing about the managers being uniformed.

All that said, Rule 2.00 defines the bench or dugout as “the seating facilities reserved for players, substitutes and other team members in uniform when they are not actively engaged on the playing field," and makes no exceptions for managers or anyone else. While the managers’ duds are never addressed anywhere else, this definition does seem to necessitate, in a roundabout way, that managers wear a uniform—at least if they want to have access to the dugout. And, really, where else would they sit?

Have you got a Big Question you'd like us to answer? If so, let us know by emailing us at bigquestions@mentalfloss.com.

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