Curiosity is where every discovery begins — but progress requires more than questions. It depends on structure: the testing, verification, and comparison that give science its strength.
In 2017, a graduate student from National Taiwan Normal University prepared a presentation on running mechanics using electromyography (EMG). The talk, Analysis of Lower Limb Electromyographic Signals in Various Running Styles, was presented internally in early October, followed by a submission to the Taiwan Annual Sports Biomechanics Conference later that year.
Between those events, he attended a Pose Method seminar and earned his Certified Running Technique Specialist certificate (dated October 17, 2017) — evidence that the method entered his analysis late in the process. Yet it became central to his critique, appearing both in his conference presentation and later in an online article titled
“The Extensor Paradox of Pose Running is False.”
This sequence and his claims are worth examining not for defense, but for understanding — to see how scientific inquiry truly works, and why the balance between curiosity and evidence determines whether an idea remains speculation or becomes knowledge.
The paradox discussion centers on a simple yet striking observation made in 1990. Researchers studying running mechanics used EMG to measure muscle activity in ten trained runners. They expected the quadriceps — the muscles on the front of the thigh — to remain active throughout the stance phase of running.
Instead, they found that quadriceps activity ceased earlier than predicted. The data contradicted accepted biomechanical models. Hence the name: the
Extensor Paradox.
This experiment had nothing to do with the Pose Method. The researchers were not testing a running technique; they were documenting reality as it appeared in their measurements. That is how science moves forward — by noticing when nature behaves differently than we expected.
Years later, the finding echoed what I had already observed in practice since 1977: that efficient running depends less on muscular effort and more on timing, coordination, and the use of gravity and support. The paradox was therefore not the foundation of my work — only a scientific echo of what was already visible in movement.
In his presentation and later online article, the graduate student described his work as “rigorous experiments and research.” He wrote that the Pose Method “simplifies” the phases of running gait, “possibly for the sake of practicality in its promotion.” He noted that his professors had reviewed his work, that his talk was accepted for a biomechanics conference, and that he planned to submit it for journal publication. Using EMG recordings that included a Pose running example, he concluded that because the 1990 Extensor Paradox study might have been flawed, any approach referencing it—including the Pose Method—was therefore unreliable.
The portion of his presentation dealing with Pose Running was based on a single example: one runner, one speed — roughly 15 km/h. His conclusion drew from that isolated trial. For context, the 1990 study had observed ten runners under controlled conditions, measuring multiple muscles simultaneously.
If the earlier research was imperfect, the proper response would be to improve upon it: to test more athletes, to use modern tools, to replicate the work.
What the graduate student claimed (his words/summary):
- He did “rigorous experiments and research,” and found Pose “simplifies” gait phases, “possibly for the sake of practicality in its promotion.”
- Professors reviewed his work; his talk was accepted for a biomechanics conference.
- He has academic experience (poster/oral presentations, some publications) and planned to submit this material for a journal.
- He used EMG data—including a Pose example—to argue the 1990 “extensor paradox” was questionable, and therefore Pose, by referencing it, was partly unreliable.
What that actually means (in plain English):
- “Rigorous experiments” here refers to his own graduate-level projects, not full-scale research with replication or peer review, and not a study specific to Pose Method
- Professor feedback is normal in school; it’s mentorship and academic guidance, not independent validation.
- Conference acceptance means the submission was clear and relevant to the event—not that the findings were checked, repeated, or confirmed by outside experts.
- His Pose segment involved one runner at one speed—that’s an example, an illustration and not proof or evidence.
- Saying Pose “simplifies” phases “for practicality” is an interpretation of teaching design, not a biomechanical finding.
- “Planned journal submission” means it wasn’t yet peer-reviewed at the time. Also there is no record that such publication ever occurred.
At first glance, the sequence—presentation, conference, and online article—resembles the path of formal research. In reality, it was an exercise in academic participation, not scientific verification. Understanding the difference between engaging in academic activity and producing scientific knowledge is not a technicality; it marks the line where curiosity becomes science.
Scientific research is not defined by the presence of equipment or the appearance of graphs. It is defined by process.
A valid study must:
- Pose a clear question before the experiment begins.
- Control variables so the data answer that question.
- Repeat the experiment — ideally by independent observers.
- Submit results to review by qualified peers with no stake in the outcome.
This structure is not bureaucracy; it is the foundation of reliability. Science arose precisely to separate fact and data from belief and opinion. Its limits are its strength — because within those limits, results can be tested, repeated, and confirmed.
A conference presentation or a personal trial can spark inquiry, but until its design, data, and replication are transparent, it remains an observation, not a study.
Critique is vital to science — but it must follow the same rules as the work it questions.
To claim that a previous study was flawed, one must:
- Reproduce it or provide comparative data.
- Apply equal or higher measurement standards.
- Publish methods so others can verify them.
The graduate student’s 2017 presentation did none of these. It raised a question, but it did not test it. It offered opinion without replication. To question science responsibly, one must practice science, not merely reference it.
Scientific integrity is not about being right — it is about being rigorous. It means knowing where one’s data ends and speculation begins. It values disciplined balance between curiosity and proof, idea and evidence over passion. When curiosity exceeds structure, interpretation turns into assertion, and clarity gives way to confusion.
For teachers and professionals who work with movement, this is the essential lesson. Curiosity begins inquiry, but discipline gives it form.
When encountering new studies or critiques — especially those claiming to “disprove” a system — ask:
- How many subjects were tested?
- Were the conditions controlled?
- Were the methods published for review?
If not, treat it as discussion, nothing more.
The Pose framework itself was born from this discipline. It began not as theory but as a teacher’s search for structure — a way to teach running with the same clarity found in ballet or martial arts. The idea took form in days, but it took years to refine, and decades to test, measure, and support through science.
Science and coaching share the same foundation: progress does not come from defending belief, but from confronting it with evidence. Understanding begins when observation is tested, and knowledge takes shape only when results hold steady across time, practice, and physics.
To teach movement is to pass through that same process — to strip away what is assumed, to verify what is seen, and to refine what endures. In that work lies both integrity and mastery: the union of experience and proof.
