World's fastest swimsuit

Is Speedo's Fastskin LZR racer kind of like 'technological doping'?

Yelp if you've had enough of Michael Phelps.

In his eighth race of the Olympics, I probably was among the tiny minority quietly hoping that he'd have to settle for a silver medal, not his eighth gold.

Notwithstanding the overdoses of Phelps-this, Phelps-that in both the NBC coverage and all the commercials, I have nothing against a guy who seems really likable, who has turned the attention away — ever so shortly — from our obsessions with football, baseball, golf and NASCAR, and who, hopefully, will breathe new life into the sport and activity of swimming in the United States.

But seven golds would have been plenty.

Along the same lines of not wanting Barry Bonds to surpass Hank Aaron's home-run record, my hope was partly because of nostalgia and keeping an Olympic legend, Mark Spitz, from being eclipsed. In 1972, I was an 8-year-old experiencing his first memorable Olympics and Spitz was the superstar. His image of wearing seven golds while in his stars and stripes Speedo is undoubtedly one of the most enduring in the 112-year history of the modern Games.

Unlike Phelps, Spitz was a quirky character, which I find more fascinating than routine nice guys. In an excellent article in the Aug. 14 edition of The New York Times, longtime swimming writer Frank Litsky compared Phelps and Spitz: "Phelps is sociable, just one of the guys, and other swimmers like him. Spitz was considered by many teammates to be detached, remote and given to mind games."

However, my hope for Phelps to merely tie Spitz had more to do with the general acceptance of the Speedo Fastskin LZR racer suit by Olympic and international swimming authorities. The suit has been worn by swimmers, including Phelps, who have broken about 70 world records since its introduction in February.

How does a swimsuit make that possible?

With help from NASA, Speedo developed a suit featuring ultrasonically welded seams, compression zone areas and thin polyurethane panels that drastically improve buoyancy, minimize drag, repel water and reduce muscle and skin vibration. Though most swimmers were donning LZRs at the Olympics, pity those whose teams had contracts with swimsuit companies (such as Germany with Adidas) that weren't allowed to wear LZRs or aspiring swimmers who may not be able to afford the suit, which now sells for $550 for the full-body "Bodyskin," $350 for the Legskin and even $290 for just the knee-length jammer.

On a regular basis, I get e-mails from Speedo (along with Nike and other sporting goods companies), and as soon as Phelps won his eighth gold medal, the company sent out one offering 20 percent off and free shipping — for just the next 24 hours — along with a chance to preorder LZR suits. In the offer, Phelps' image emulates that of Leonardo da Vinci's famous drawing, the "Vitruvian Man" (demonstrating the proportions of a man).

I can't blame Speedo for capitalizing on Phelps and the LZR. That's just good ol' crafty capitalism. But speaking for sport purists and Luddites, I'd rather see swimmers swimming in their own well-shaved skin.

For swimming, the cat's already out of the bag. We can't rewind the past six months, or the years before when precursors to the LZR already helped chip away at records. High-tech suits are here to stay, and other companies will just copy Speedo's innovations.

Some, like myself, consider the suits to be a form of "technological doping." Even cycling, a sport now synonymous with medical doping, sets limits on how light a bicycle can be.

So what's next? A baseball bat that sends balls soaring 50 percent farther, making every game a home-run derby? A tennis racket capable of hitting a ball 200 mph? A basketball sneaker that lets people like me, with maybe a 2-inch vertical leap, soar through the air like Michael Jordan?

As ridiculous as that is meant to sound, there's already a running shoe with springs in it, produced by the Spira footwear company, that purportedly returns up to 96 percent of energy exerted on it, allowing runners to run faster with less effort, fatigue and injury risk.

While it hasn't generated much talk in the world of running, a runner wearing a pair clocked a 26:01 in a 10K race (put on by Spira on a course that dropped 1,300 feet) last year. Despite that questionable "record," runners wearing Spiras took top finishes in several other major races in the past year, including marathons in Los Angeles, Houston, Detroit and Ottawa. Believe me, the running and sports press will start talking about Spiras if a runner wearing a pair breaks the coveted two-hour mark in the marathon, which will happen in my lifetime.

Some swimmers and coaches disregard the LZRs' improvements as having a "negligible" effect, and that world records are a function of both the suits and improved training practices. While breaking records is, indeed, a combination of improved technology and training, the number of world records broken in the past six months is obscene.

So let's face the facts: It's mostly about the suit.

Breaking a world record should be a special moment in time, rather than routine and expected. Just as Bonds' home-run record should include an asterisk, these swimming records should, too.

Reach David Quick at 937-5516 or dquick@postandcourier.com.