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Solomon in heated altitude chamber
(photo by Michael Lewis) |
For research on performance in extreme environments, scientists generally have to choose between the benefits of conducting controlled experiments in the laboratory with research in the more realistic "field." In the lab, one can most clearly see how manipulating one variable (the independent variable or IV) affects a second variable (the dependent variable or DV) while keeping all other variables constant (the extraneous variables). In the field, however, we have little to no control over these extraneous variables, thereby making it difficult to see a clear IV-DV relationship.
What's needed is a way to conduct controlled experiments in extreme conditions that mimic conditions in the field. For most researchers, this task is difficult, if not impossible. However, as Christopher Solomon, a writer for Outside Magazine, discovered, scientists at the US Army Research Institute of Environmental Medicine are succeeding in recreating the extreme in the lab. In his article, Solomon writes:
"THE PILL IS SMALL, PURPLE, CYLINDRICAL—ABOUT THE SIZE AND OMINOUSNESS OF A .38-CALIBER BULLET. I haven't known Robert Kenefick ten minutes when he hands me a rubber glove and tells me where I can stick it. Without wallowing in too much detail, let's just say the pill—which is really a wireless temperature sensor—isn't going in the easy way.
Kenefick is 45, bespectacled, with the ironed-khakis-and-Rockports appearance of the college professor he once was. He's not without sympathy. "I know most people want dinner and dancing before they do something like this," he jokes as he leads me to the restroom. Suddenly, I'm keenly aware of how bland my social life is.
Mission accomplished, I waddle back to the testing area. "Let's do it," says Kenefick. He opens a ponderous steel door, and we step into a metal-walled room that's precisely the suffocating temperature of a Tucson afternoon.
"Unnggh," I groan.
Kenefick is apologetic. Today the room is "only" 40 degrees Celsius—104 degrees Fahrenheit. The first time he ran this test, he says, "we had guys at 50 C," or 122 F. Somehow I don't feel shortchanged. The room's steel walls are hot. The steel floor is hot. Pumps roar as they exhale air that feels like a Bikram yoga lover's dream. Inside, I'll bake for the next three hours to get thoroughly dehydrated before I mount a stationary bike and pedal maniacally. The goal: to gauge just how much my performance craters when I'm hotter and thirstier than I've ever been.
KENEFICK IS A PHYSIOLOGIST at the U.S. Army Research Institute of Environmental Medicine (USARIEM)—a vanilla-sounding name for a cluster of gee-whiz laboratories, little known even inside the military, whose mission is to build soldiers capable of enduring anything Mother Nature throws their way. Though primarily a defense project, the institute's work also trickles down to civilian life, affecting how the rest of us run, drink, eat, exercise, and survive in the outdoors.
Kenefick specializes in heat problems. Army brass call when they want to know whether slathering on the insect repellent deet makes it harder for soldiers to sweat and cool off. (Nope.) Or when they want to learn how to make soldiers acclimate faster in sweltering conditions. (He's working on it.)"
See Solomon's full article at Oustide Online.com. Also, a thank you to Tony Thomas, a student in the Human Factors and Systems program at Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University, and member of the HPEE Student Chapter, for finding this article.