A Pill(pil) to Make Exercise(ˈeksərˌsīz) Obsolete(ˌäbsəˈlēt)

A Pill(pil) to Make Exercise(ˈeksərˌsīz) Obsolete(ˌäbsəˈlēt)

What if a drug(drəg) could give you all the benefits(ˈbenəfit) of a workout?

By Nicola Twilley

It was late(lāt) summer, and the gray(grā) towers of the Salk Institute(ˈinstiˌt(y)o͞ot), in San Diego(di ā go), shaded(SHād) seamlessly(ˈsēmlis) into ocean fog(fäg,fôg). The austere(ôˈsti(ə)r), marble(ˈmärbəl)-paved(pāv) central(ˈsentrəl) courtyard(ˈkôrtˌyärd) was silent(ˈsīlənt) and deserted(dəˈzərtid). The south lawn(lôn), a peaceful retreat(riˈtrēt) often used for Tai Chi and yoga(ˈyōgə) classes, was likewise(ˈlīkˌwīz) devoid(diˈvoid) of life, but through vents(vent) built into its concrete(ē) border one could detect(diˈtekt) a slight(slīt) ammoniac(ə mo ni ak) whiff((h)wif) from more than two thousand cages(kāj) of laboratory(ˈlabrəˌtôrē) rodents(ˈrōdnt) below(biˈlō). In a teak(tēk)-lined office overlooking the ocean, the biologist Ron Evans introduced(ˌintrəˈd(y)o͞os) me to two specimens(ˈspesəmən): Couch(kouCH) Potato(pəˈtātō) Mouse and Lance(lans) Armstrong Mouse.

Couch Potato Mouse had been raised(rāzd) to serve as a proxy(ˈpräksē) for the average(ˈav(ə)rij) American. Its daily(ˈdālē) exercise was limited to an occasional(əˈkāZHənl) waddle(ˈwädl) toward a bowl(bōl) brimming(brim) with pellets(ˈpelit) of laboratory standard “Western(ˈwestərn) Diet(ˈdī-it),” which consists almost entirely(enˈtīrlē) of fat(fat) and sugar(ˈSHo͝ogər) and is said to taste(tāst) like cookie dough(dō). The mouse was lethargic(ləˈTHärjik), lolling in a fresh(freSH) layer of bedding(ˈbediNG), rolls(rōl) of fat visible(ˈvizəbəl) beneath(biˈnēTH) thinning(THin), greasy(-zē,ˈgrēsē)-looking fur(fər). Lance Armstrong Mouse had been raised under exactly(igˈzak(t)lē) the same conditions, yet, despite(diˈspīt) its poor diet and lack of exercise, it was lean(lēn) and taut(tôt), its eyes and coat(kōt) shiny(ˈSHīnē) as it snuffled(ˈsnəfəl) around its cage(kāj). The secret(ˈsēkrit) to its healthy(ˈhelTHē) appearance(əˈpi(ə)rəns) and youthful energy(ˈenərjē), Evans explained(ikˈsplān), lay(lā) in a daily dose of GW501516: a drug(drəg) that confers(kənˈfər) the beneficial(ˌbenəˈfiSHəl) effects(iˈfekt) of exercise without the need to move a muscle(ˈməsəl).

Exercise has its discomforts(disˈkəmfərt), after all: as we sat down to talk, Evans, a trim(trim) sixty-something in a striped(strīpt) polo(ˈpōlō) shirt(SHərt), removed a knee(nē) brace(brās) from a coffee table, making room for a mug(məg) of peppermint(ˈpepərˌmint) tea; he was trying to soothe(so͞oT͟H) his stomach(ˈstəmək), having picked up a bug(bəg) while hiking(hīk) in the Andes(ˈandēz). Evans began experimenting with 516, as the drug is commonly known, in 2007. He hoped that it might offer clues(klo͞o) about how the genes(jēn) that control human metabolism(məˈtabəˌlizəm) are switched on and off, a question that has occupied(ˈäkyəˌpīd) him for most of his career(kəˈri(ə)r).