In a recent wave of innovation in the health tech industry, wearable devices like the Whoop band and Oura Ring are pushing boundaries with AI-driven advice that sometimes veers into controversial territory. Last week, Verge senior reviewer Victoria Song shared a striking anecdote from her editor-in-chief, Nilay Patel, who received an unexpected recommendation from his Whoop AI coach. The device suggested ways to "dramatically improve" his testosterone levels, even though they were at what Whoop described as "not sick" levels. Patel, who obtained the band through a yearlong offer from Chase, shared a screenshot of the advice, calling it laughable given his personal circumstances.
Whoop, a Boston-based company known for its screenless fitness trackers focused on recovery metrics, has been at the forefront of this trend. According to Song's analysis in The Verge's Optimizer newsletter, the company's AI coach, introduced in 2023, aims to optimize users' performance by analyzing data on sleep, strain, and recovery. But such recommendations highlight a growing concern: how far should wearables go in dispensing health advice without medical oversight? Song noted that the suggestion to Patel wasn't based on deficiency but on Whoop's performance-oriented baseline, raising questions about the device's assumptions.
The timing of this story coincides with major developments at Whoop. In recent weeks, the company announced it had raised $575 million in a new funding round, valuing it at $10.1 billion. Investors include Abbott, the Mayo Clinic, and basketball star LeBron James. CEO Will Ahmed told investors that Whoop is preparing for an initial public offering, or IPO, as part of its expansion plans. Just days after the funding news, Whoop filed a lawsuit against Bevel, a rival startup, accusing it of copying its app design.
Song, who revisited her Whoop MG device after a year, found that while the hardware remains a solid choice for athletes, the surrounding industry has evolved rapidly. Whoop and Oura, another leader in the space with its smart ring, have shifted from basic fitness tracking to advanced health insights. Both companies initially stood out by emphasizing recovery over step counts or calories burned, appealing to professional athletes and celebrities with sleek, display-free designs. However, as competitors like Fitbit, Apple, Samsung, Garmin, and Withings adopted similar recovery features, Whoop and Oura innovated further.
Oura has focused on detecting early illness signs and estimating cardiovascular age, while partnering with Dexcom to integrate glucose data and launching a chatbot for users. Whoop, meanwhile, added longevity features like the "Whoop Age" metric, which estimates how fast a user is aging based on physiological data. Song described the Whoop Age as particularly frustrating in her review, calling it her "villain origin story" due to its inconsistencies. These advancements come amid a broader "hype cycle" in wearables, where companies collect more specialized data—such as blood, sweat, and urine analysis—then use AI to interpret it and tie it to wellness trends.
The promise of wearables is compelling: monitor metrics to establish a baseline, spot deviations, and seek medical help armed with data. Song pointed out that this has indeed saved lives, but fulfilling the vision often proves challenging and costly. In her recent feature on continuous glucose monitors, or CGMs, she explored how such devices can lead to mental strain. Now, with AI coaching and lifespan predictions, the line between wellness and medical advice is blurring.
Regulatory scrutiny is mounting as these devices gain influence. In July, the Food and Drug Administration issued a warning to Whoop over a new blood pressure feature, prompting Oura CEO Tom Hale to write an op-ed advocating for a new "digital screeners" category with relaxed FDA clearance requirements. Hale argued this would allow faster innovation while maintaining safety. Whoop, however, opposes the idea, according to reports. The FDA responded by updating its wearable guidelines earlier this year, which Samsung cited to launch a blood pressure feature without clearance.
Whoop and Oura's reach extends to Washington, D.C., where congressional staffers have been seen wearing the devices. The company's CEO, Ahmed, met with the Health Secretary in May 2024, shortly before Robert F. Kennedy Jr., a prominent advocate for health tech, declared that every American should use a wearable in the coming years as part of the Make America Healthy Again, or MAHA, movement. Oura has also lobbied for less stringent regulations on wearable technology.
Song's piece draws parallels between wearable advice and social media trends like "testosteronemaxxing," where influencers promote supplements for so-called "Low T." She questioned how many users might start testosterone regimens based on device prompts, extending the concern to trends like excessive protein intake or peptide use. In her experience, AI features have suggested "obscene amounts of protein" or injury-causing training plans, despite the devices' data limitations.
Personal stories underscore the human element. Song shared her ongoing struggle with metabolic issues, requiring new medications that sidelined her workouts for six weeks. During this time, her Oura Ring's cardiovascular age estimate shifted from seven years younger to two years older, while Whoop pegged her age at five years older. Her smartwatches flagged a dropping VO2 Max. "I know this is temporary—but trying to keep up with all the wellness trends and innovations baked into these platforms is something I cannot do," she wrote. "Alas, I am human."
This anecdote illustrates a larger cycle Song identifies: distrust in the healthcare system fuels wellness grifters who push wearables and supplements. As adoption grows, companies chase trends for relevance, leading to phenomena like vaccine skepticism or experimental treatments. Doctors are reporting increased public mistrust in evidence-based care, she noted, linking it to the allure of personalized tech.
Neither Whoop nor Oura is solely to blame, Song emphasized; they are influential players in a complex ecosystem. The industry's rapid pace, without adequate guardrails, risks misleading users. For instance, Patel's testosterone advice, while harmless in his case, could encourage others down unverified paths. As Whoop eyes an IPO and Oura expands partnerships, the stakes are high for balancing innovation with responsibility.
Looking ahead, the FDA's evolving guidelines could shape the future. Hale's op-ed proposal remains under discussion, while Whoop's opposition highlights industry divides. With investors like the Mayo Clinic backing Whoop, collaborations with medical institutions may provide more rigorous validation. Meanwhile, users like Patel and Song serve as reminders that data-driven advice must account for individual realities.
The wearable market's growth shows no signs of slowing. Whoop's $575 million raise and $10.1 billion valuation signal strong confidence, but the Bevel lawsuit suggests competitive tensions. As AI integrates deeper into health tech, experts urge caution. Song concluded that while these devices offer valuable insights, their hype cycle's ripple effects—from policy influence to personal health decisions—warrant close watching.
In Appleton, where fitness enthusiasts and tech adopters alike are eyeing these gadgets, the debate resonates locally. Local gyms report increased interest in recovery-focused wearables, but trainers caution against over-relying on AI without professional input. As the industry hurtles forward, the key will be ensuring innovations empower rather than overwhelm users.