Nick & Choose 29: Relaxation Drinks

Published Nov. 3, 2010

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Relaxation drinks. Fuel for an inactive lifestyle.

Energy drinks are a multibillion-dollar business. Names like Red Bull and Monster stand at the top of the category, but parasitic brands such as Steaz, NOS or KaBoom are around to fight for the crumbs of profit.

My friend Adam is in the drink biz as the associate publisher of Beverage Spectrum Magazine and BevNet.com, and together we once toyed with the idea of entering the market. We even had product samples made of a shot we called Midnight Oil, but our plans never got off the ground. It may have been our complete lack of drive, capital or business sense, but failure was practically assured anyway. The category is oversaturated, and some people had doubts about the name. One former intern, Kyle, said it sounded like a sexual lubricant.

With the market sealed, some entrepreneurs have created an equal and opposite reactionary product: relaxation drinks. In the same cans packed with caffeine and B vitamins come beverages like Tranquila and iChill, infused with rose hips and kava root. The sector has little traction at the moment, with the sales leader pulling in just $5 million in revenue, but that just means there’s opportunity for growth. So I decided to investigate the competition. As I was also starting a new position, I figured my nerves could use the help. Plus Kyle had returned as our new editorial assistant. Here was my chance to help with his first-week jitters, and exact revenge for that lubricant comment.

“This tastes like Dimetapp mixed with beer,” said Kyle, sucking down a Drank. Debuting in this region last December, Drank is the category’s most recognizable name. With ingredients like valerian root—which some studies have shown causes abnormal heartbeat—and melatonin—which can disrupt circadian rhythms—Drank pulls no punches in knocking you out. Never comfortable chatting with strangers, I chugged a can before an interview and magically transformed into punch-drunk Charlie Rose. I faltered; I stammered; I did everything short of drool. Across town, Kyle eventually passed out, missed two phone calls and ended up in bed by 9:30 pm.

Before a night out, I gulped a can of Lean, similar in formula to Drank. After meeting up with my girlfriend, she took one look in my dreamy, slightly glassy eyes, and accused me of being high.

There are less severe alternatives. Some, like Novocaine, which Kyle deemed a complete failure, feature kava root extract as the main active ingredient. I rather liked the Relaxing Tea, but even these lighter drinks come with printed warnings to not exceed two bottles per day. All of them claim to be lifestyle beverages, but I can’t see how you can consume them while simultaneously leading a productive life. The only time I could draw a positive effect was when I’d face a project, drink a can, and then try and get everything completed before the melatonin kicked in.

That may have been the wrong approach, so I called Drank CEO Peter Bianchi, who apparently drinks his product throughout the day. As Bianchi sees it, Drank is a safe alternative to “the bottle of Jack Daniel’s in your drawer for when you’re pulling your hair out, or the bottle of Valium your doctor prescribed.” At Hunter S. Thompson, Inc., yes, I suppose Drank is a healthier choice. But what of Drank’s clear allusion to drank, aka lean, aka the recreational consumption of prescription-strength cough syrup? Hedges Bianchi, “In ‘I Gotta Feeling,’ when Fergie says ‘Drank!’ she’s not talking about promethazine, she’s saying ‘Let’s have a drank.’ This is a celebratory beverage.” I voiced my doubts about the products viability, but Bianchi assured me, “Call BevNet. They’ll tell you this is the most explosive category in the industry.”

“Well, anyone with a brand is going to say that,” said Adam, later on the phone. Fresh from a Vegas trade show, he’d seen a lot of new entrants to the market, but said, “It’s still such a young category. Distributors are still hesitant and worried to pick up unknown products, just because they don’t want to be burned.”

While unpaid bills are an understandable concern, the bigger problem might be a target demographic too tired to purchase another can.

Truth be told, I drank a Red Bull before writing this. I needed the energy, and getting tasks done is what eliminates my stress. The two fingers of whiskey is the reward, not the crutch. But when the time comes to relax, I don’t always need the help. I’m already sleepy.

Nick & Choose 28: Gadgets

Published Oct. 6, 2010

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Inspector Gadget
Technophobia? There’s an app for that.

I was at the gdgt tech expo and feeling out of touch. Powerline network kits? Dual USB GPS car chargers? These aren’t the gadgets of my youth. I worked at a Brookstone. A waffle iron/alarm clock that plays humpback mating calls, that’s a gadget. A FreeAgent GoFlex TV? That’s just a… well, it sort of, um… OK, I really have no idea.

The very first booth I visited hammered home my Luddite status. “So, what do you guys do?” I asked the representative from Springpad.

“I’ll show you. Do you have an iPhone or a Droid?”
“I have none of those things.”
And then we shared an awkward silence.

There was only one person in attendance who appeared to understand my unease. A man with no companion, looking a bit lost, and a bit ridiculous in a white, skintight, electroluminescent costume.

“Hey, Tron Guy. What are you doing here?”
“I’m just here for Lenovo.”
“What do they have you doing?”
“Just standing around, bein’ Tron Guy.”

Not on my watch, friend. Averting my eyes from his unfortunate spandex bulge, I put Tron Guy to work explaining one of the featured products. Seems Lenovo developed a kind of one-handed keyboard remote to make surfing the Web on your TV easier. Sadly, I don’t have the Web on my TV. In fact, I realized, I’ve never actually seen one of Tron Guy’s YouTube videos. I’ve never even seen Tron. That’s when my shame spiral really started to spin.

I don’t have the Internet on my phone. I don’t even have wireless! I have no DVR. My non-HD TV is longer than it is wide and weighs more than my oven. What can I do? Teach me, Tron Guy! “What’s the name of this device?”

“I don’t know.”

Well, if a man dressed as a computer program can’t be relied on for technological expertise, that certainly levels the playing field. With renewed confidence, I wandered over to the Kodak booth to speak with a nervous young man about the PlaySport video camera he had submerged in a fishbowl. I guess being waterproof at 10 feet is impressive, but why would I choose the PlaySport over the PlayTouch, with its on-screen editing and better Web connectivity? “If you go scuba diving—well, shallow scuba diving,” he replied.

Shockingly, it appeared I was the most tech-savvy person in attendance. So, as a man who still listens to cassette tapes, I present the gdgt Best in Show.

3. Scvngr, based in Cambridge, is a free, location-based app like Foursquare and Gowalla. The difference? Rather than simply “checking in” at a participating location, Scvngr presents you with challenges. Board the Fung Wah Bus, snap a picture of yourself making it to New York without catching on fire, earn a discount on your next trip. I have my suspicions about these apps, as my friends who use them don’t seem to derive any real enjoyment, but Scvngr has two things in its favor. One, it just received $4 million from Google Ventures, so you might as well get used to seeing it. And two, its 21-year-old CEO dropped out of Princeton and, according to The New York Times, now works 96 hours a week. Here’s a kid who’s torching his youth to help others have fun. I hope the inevitable truckload of cash offers some comfort.

2. “They come from the planet blõôh located in the galaxy 4210,” said the guy from Mimobot. Finally! Something I can understand. Based in Allston, Mimobot makes flash drives designed to look like characters from Hello Kitty, Star Wars and more. The flash drives come with an amusing backstory, but they don’t really do anything besides store data. Is it silly? Yes. Do I want a $40 C-3PO? Yup.

1. Another free app, the Woburn-based HeyWire allows you to text or chat with anyone around the world at no cost. With streamlined connectivity, you can be reached simultaneously by phone, Facebook, IM, smoke signal, whatever. “So I can never hide?” I asked the rep. “You’re not the first person to say that,” he confessed.

At what price, privacy? About $120 sounds right, which is what my abacus tells me I’d save if I cut texting from my phone plan. With an extra $120, maybe I could upgrade to a smartphone and actually use these programs. Or I could go to Brookstone and buy three RC helicopters and an electronic bottle opener. When it comes to gadgets, I’m a purist.

Nick & Choose 27: Compression Gear

Published Sept. 8, 2010

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Under Pressure
Recovery gear: the next step in high performance or the emperor’s new clothes?

Last month, I signed up for the Lowell Sun Half Marathon, a race more than four times the length of any I’ve run before. I’m aiming to finish in just under two hours, a time that’s perfectly respectable but that won’t impress anyone, which pretty much describes me as an athlete, as well.

In the sports world, compression gear is a hot commodity. Recovery socks are getting full spreads in running magazines. NFL players are currently shrinkwrapping their brawn under compression shirts. A few years ago, NBA commissioner David Stern got his undies in a bunch when superstars like Kobe Bryant and Dwyane Wade took to wearing tights.

The company that supplies Wade with his stockings is McDavid, Inc., one of several firms now fabricating recovery gear. About six years ago, McDavid found the world of spandex had gone slack. “It got to the point where every average Joe mowing his lawn was wearing Under Armour,” says marketing director Rey Corpuz. Working with Olympic hopefuls, McDavid created a line of products designed to both boost performance—by increasing support and the flow of oxygenated blood to the focus area—and aid in recovery, as increased circulation prevents blood from pooling and lactic acid buildup. Of course, there’s an aesthetic hurdle. When actually wearing the gear, you feel like the guy who brings cleats to the company softball game.

“I’m going to be honest, you look a bit like a douche,” my girlfriend said, as I modeled my pants and knee-high socks. “Is that really going to help you when you’re not a peak performer?” I was going to find out.

Due to a weekend wedding, I missed 11 scheduled miles of training, so I had planned a rigorous week of catch-up. Three hard days in a row had me ready when my apparel arrived on Wednesday. That night I slept in McDavid’s True Compression Recovery Pant ($75). Like Superman’s pajamas, they were cozy and gave my thighs a snug eight-hour hug.

The next day I stepped onto the treadmill like someone walking across hot coals—expecting the worst and hoping for the best. I wouldn’t say my legs felt peppy, but they weren’t sore, and I banged out four miles at a decent clip. Facing another four on Saturday, I slept in the socks and used Friday to put my legs through a gauntlet of squats, lunges and sprints, all exercises proven to rip my muscle fibers like cheap burlap.

With another night in the pants, my legs felt fine, considering. A Saturday run in the socks, minus the stares, was quite comfortable. After one last night with vacuum-sealed stems, I awoke on Sunday to face the final leg: seven miles, 90-degree heat and what seemed like a headwind at every turn.

Running in the pants was like putting new tires on a car with no fuel, as I stumbled around for an hour, pain-free but exhausted. Though there’s a sense your muscles are being pulled into action, like a puppet tugged by a string, and the stocking did provide a breezy cool I hadn’t felt since a grade-school production of Robin Hood.

The benefits are hard to quantify, as you can’t objectively measure an absence of aching or a slight increase in energy. I tend to agree with the case studies showing recovery gear decreases delayed muscle soreness but offers no real performance advantage. But what does the man on the street say?

“You’re at least a little less sore the next day,” says Will, an employee at Marathon Sports and a fellow former member of the Bates College track team. With a half-marathon time around 1:20, Will often runs in calf sleeves, but he admits, “some days your legs just feel better than others.”

“It’s probably—next to minimalist shoes—the fastest-growing market in running,” says Justin Burdon, co-owner of South End Athletic Company. A near four-minute miler while at Boston College, or as I prefer to call it, “the inferior B.C.,” Burdon refrains from compression gear. “I’m not in competition anymore, so it’s not something I really need.”

At $20-$60 just for socks, I’d pass, too. I especially wouldn’t shell out $200 for the new Saucony recovery suit, unless I wanted to complete the superhero ensemble. But with the gear already in hand, it’s going to get some use. An advantage, even minimal, even fictitious, needs to be grabbed this many miles from the finish line.