Me and Lance Armstrong, we were buds. OK, that’s not quite true.
Me and Lance, we hung out together all the time. Maybe I exaggerate somewhat.
The fact is, I had one fleeting encounter with him. Armstrong sponsored a 5K race in Austin in 2006 in which I participated. I was running with a friend near the halfway point when a guy zoomed by us. It seemed odd since if he was so fast, he should have been up near the leaders. Furthermore, this person was not in running shorts and a singlet but casual shorts that hung to the knee, and he wore a jacket of some kind. Maybe 5 meters in front of us, he turned with a smile and said, “Hi, guys!” Needless to say, my friend and I were pleased to have this momentary brush with Lance Armstrong—the greatest bicycle racer of the modern era or maybe all eras. Everybody knows he won the Tour de France seven times: each year from 1999 to 2005, at which point he retired. We did not know then that he would make a comeback in 2009 (he finished 3rd) and 2010 (39th).
Lance and I do have a few things in common since both of us are of European-American descent, both were born and raised in Dallas, and both moved down I-35 to Austin in our late teens. Both of us favor the UT Longhorns. We both weigh 165 pounds (I am 5' 10", and he is one inch shorter). I promise to cease and desist with any further specious claims purporting to tie us together.
I first heard about him from some stories in the Austin American-Statesman in the late 1980s. It seemed there was a teenager in Dallas who was doing some big things as a triathlete (swim/bike/run). He turned pro and began to focus on biking. Again, the results were very impressive. And then disaster struck in 1996 as Armstrong was diagnosed with testicular cancer and tumors in his lungs and brain. For reasons I do not understand, he chose to forego M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston and headed to Indianapolis. Be that as it may, he took charge of his treatment, grilling his doctors about what he did and did not want. One of his assistants, Betsy Andreu, overheard a discussion between Armstrong and his doctors in which he admitted using EPO, testosterone, human growth hormone, cortisone and steroids to boost his cycling.
Armstrong overcame that crisis, got back on his Trek bicycle and grabbed the Tour de France by the neck. I remember being with co-workers in 1999 and reading each day’s report. We were all quite amazed that our local boy, the cancer survivor, had the yellow jersey and was pulling away. He crossed the finish line on the Champs d’Elysee more than seven minutes ahead of his nearest challenger. Armstrong won each of the next six years as well.
The French had been sniping at him almost from the beginning. None of their guys could hang with the steely-eyed American, therefore, they reasoned, he must be juicing. I ignored this for a long time, but such charges would not go away. Armstrong’s denial was vociferous. He answered that (1) he had never failed a drug test, (2) with his personal history he would be a fool to ingest toxic, performance-enhancing drugs, and (3) it was his solemn responsibility to be a positive role model for cancer survivors worldwide. He started a foundation in 1997 that has raised more than $500 million for cancer awareness and research. “Livestrong,” he calls it. And while the foundation has done good things, some critics hold that it is more about burnishing the Armstrong brand than eradicating disease.
Fast forward to the summer of 2012. The U.S. Anti-Doping Association presented solid evidence that illicit drugs had indeed been the key to his dominance of pro bicycling. Many of his trusted lieutenants—such as George Hincapie, Christian Vande Velde, David Zabriskie, Floyd Landis, Tyler Hamilton and Levi Leipheimer—gave sworn statements (backed by e-mails and financial records) showing that Armstrong had been the key figure in a widespread and sophisticated doping program, the purpose of which was to win every year in France. Armstrong was indignant, asserting that he was the victim of a witch hunt but that he would not fight the charges. Since then, even more people have come out with pointed accusations.
So was it all a sham, and Big Tex had been dirty from the get-go? A number of people, myself included, believed for a long time that he was just a superior athlete with unusually high VO2 max numbers, and he had subjected himself (and his teammates) to some very strenuous training. We must see the big picture here, which is that performance enhancers have been endemic to this sport for many years, and that the riders and teams Armstrong beat were drugged up themselves. That may not make it right, but it helps explain why they kept popping those pills, wearing those patches, getting those injections and evading testers by hook or crook.
Armstrong won the Tour seven straight times, and if all—or most—of his competitors were using PEDs too, the achievement must stand for something. The playing field was level. Maybe those victories have a hollow look to them now; USADA has stated that Armstrong’s seven titles have been vacated although it does not actually have the power to strip him.
This story is far from over. While Armstrong still has his die-hard defenders, I think six months or a year from now the news will be worse. He will have been proven even more emphatically to be a bully, a liar and a fraud. Admired, respected and indeed revered for so long, he may become a pariah with major legal problems.
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