Editor's Rating:
The Good: Tights that not only keep you dry but reduce soreness
The Bad: They're ridiculously expensive
The Bottom Line: For serious athletes, they deliver performance and style
As a sports fanatic, I've seen several TV ads touting snug-fitting exercise wear. There's always some buff sports star speeding across the TV screen, biceps nearly busting through his skintight shirt. Athletes everywhere wear this stuff: swimmers, runners, cyclists, even golfer extraordinaire Tiger Woods.
I've always wondered: What do tights really accomplish? Under Armour (UA), the U.S. pioneer in snug-fitting athletic clothes, made hay by giving us performance wear that wicks away sweat like NFL running back LaDainian Tomlinson sheds tacklers. No more sopping wet T-shirts. But Under Armour, and now a host of other tight-fit manufacturers, claims the sleek garments improve athletic performance. Slip on a pair of form-fitting tights and you'll run faster, lift more weight, and if not quite leap tall buildings, at least feel less soreness after an intense workout.
Since I have my own dreams about dunking a basketball and skiing with the reckless abandon of those freestyle dudes in Warren Miller flicks, I decided to pick up a pair of Skins in Boulder, Colo., the U.S. headquarters of the Sydney (Australia)-based company. The Skins fit extra snugly around key parts of the body—the calves and forearms, for example—which Skins executives say increases the flow of blood and pumps it full of the vital oxygen that muscles need to function and rebuild. So with my gear in tow, I took a shuttle to Breckenridge Ski Resort high in the Rockies and put these tights to the test.
The test wouldn't be easy. I hadn't skied all season, nor had I trained for Breckenridge's steep slopes. Worse, it was a brutally cold single-digit-temperature day this February. Add in a very real wind-chill factor and I was preparing to shake in my boots.
Like most tight-fitting gear, Skins are designed to offer three main benefits. First, they're supposed to keep you dry during a workout, absorbing every ounce of sweat. They also take a special approach to muscle compression that officials claim cuts muscle fatigue and boosts performance like nothing else. And Skins are supposed to help keep you warm. The pair I had was dubbed Skins Snow. All Skins are made of nylon microfiber mixed with Spandex. But the snow version has fewer seams running down the legs to allow for greater comfort in ski boots. Also the inside of the garment that touches your skin is a little fuzzier to give the illusion of more warmth.
Frankly, it was the fleece sweatshirt, snow parka, and face mask I wore that kept me warm. If the Skins had any effect, I didn't notice. Although I had on four layers, I still felt like I was skiing in a freezer. Even Skins' Americas chief, Patricia Babka, mumbled before I headed up the mountain that wearing a pair of Skins might help a tad, but it isn't going to block the fierce Rockies cold. If you want underwear for frigid conditions, a basic pair of thermals is a better choice, or the cold gear from Under Armour or Nike (NKE), which have more insulation.
So what about performance enhancement? Despite wearing Skins, I didn't handle the moguls on Breckenridge's black diamond runs any better than normal. I still had frequent slide-outs and shaky form. But I must say this: I hardly felt any soreness that evening or the next morning. That was a stark contrast from seasons past when I awoke with aching quads and calves after my first day on the slopes.
Even as I was making my last speedy turns at the end of the day, my legs felt nearly fresh, with none of the burning that normally comes with muscle fatigue. Maybe it was the oatmeal I had that morning, maybe the new K2 demo skis I was using, or some form of self-induced hypnosis, but my body felt good even after several long runs from the top of the mountain.