There was a great story in the Cleveland Plain Dealer last weekend about Ohio State receiver Anthony Gonzalez and his training methods. The junior apparently dropped $5,000 on a 6-by-6-by-8-foot hypoxic altitude simulation training system last summer. For dopes like you and me, it's basically a plastic oxygen chamber that he puts over his bed and conducts his daily business in. He sleeps there, reads there, plays video games there. He spends upwards of 12 hours a day in the tent, which gives Gonzalez's body the impression it's living at 8,000 feet.

The idea is to increase the number of red blood cells and thus improve the body's ability to carry oxygen. Greater oxygen capacity makes for increased endurance, which allows Gonzalez to train for longer periods of time at more intense intervals and therefore get more out of his workouts. Now, training at altitude isn't exactly a novel idea - the U.S. Olympic Complex is in Colorado Springs, Col., for a reason - and there's some debate over Gonzalez's method, but it's still amazing how far some athletes will go to get their edge.

Even more amazing was the accompanying story in the Plain Dealer that suggested the World Anti-Doping Agency is considering adding oxygen chambers to its list of banned substances. Why? We crossed the border to normalcy long ago in our quest for greatness and there's no going back now. What Gonzalez and apparently others are doing is at its root no different than drinking a protein shake or lifting a barbell. Each is a foreign instrument in its own right, and each is used to help an athlete maximize his training potential.

The only thing that worries me is how these contraptions might become a part of football's out-of-control arm's race. When I mentioned Gonzalez's tent to a Buckeye buddy of mine, he suggested OSU coach Jim Tressel invest in them for the entire team. I asked if he was serious. "No," he said. "It's not like we need them to beat Michigan."