Last year my steady-but-cheap exercise bike finally had it and died a quick death. One day it started clacking and black dust leaked from underneath. It was dying fast, but I couldn't be without my routine. My now-dead bike was already used when my brother gave it to me and it was small of frame. But it fit my needs and I put thousands of miles on it over about two-and-a-half years. I read many books while riding it and listened to a lot of music and contemplated many things.
When it was time to replace "Old Reliable," I did my research. I set a budget, tried to find one with a lip that would fit my Kindle and set out to find something I would spend a lot of time on. I found the perfect bike for my purposes. It isn't overly fancy, but definitely not bottom-of-the line. My final consideration was to determine how I felt about owning a LiveStrong brand bike.
Even writing that now, I can hardly believe it was a controversy in my mind. Standing in the store, I felt a look on my face like I was in the presence of flatulence. I had firmly resolved that Armstrong was a doper and I had to talk myself past that. The reason I bought it, ultimately, was that a portion of all purchases of LiveStrong cycles of any kind go toward cancer research. It was a tie-breaker. I resolved that I would buy it and take the inevitable revelation when it came (and I had no doubt it would come).
Lance Armstrong used to be a hero of mine. That changed over time, and the ramifications of all I grew to suspect came crashing down today. I hardly care anymore, but the ethical dilemma has consumed me.
In 2001, you could not have found a bigger Lance Armstrong fan than me. When Lance gave Jan Ullrich "the look" before blowing the German away in a cloud of arrogance and competitiveness in 2001, I was hooked. That moment set me to jump out of my seat and taunt Ullrich from the couch. The video of that look is above.
I owned, and wore, my LiveStrong bracelet and loved his book It's Not About the Bike. I loved the part in the book when he described his first Tour de France win as he shouted "How do you like them apples!" to his trainer as his victory became certain.
I remember taking up cycling when basketball finally became too painful. It was the logical choice, but Lance made it an enthusiastic one. I trained hard for the 2002 Ride the Rockies and hit my goal of finishing it without taking the "sag wagon." I had invested in my first truly-awesome bike (nicknamed "patches the Volpe" by Jen because of all the flat tires it got). Still a novice, I pedaled every mile without clip-in shoes (I used tennis shoes) and felt the exhilaration of reaching the top of Red Mountain pass only to look to the side and realize just how high I had climbed.
I remember animatedly imploring my boss at work at my 2004 summer job in Wyoming that he "simply must" watch Armstrong perform in the Tour. I explained that he would miss greatness at its peak if he missed it. That continued through 2005. My status as a fan was still pretty strong, but I got tired of hearing about allegations. I am not a conspiracy nut (quite the opposite, actually), so I never liked hearing the "witch hunt" narratives coming from other Armstrong fans and the man himself.
Still, the narrative I did believe was that his innocence was a given because he was the "most tested athlete in history." For the next three years I just went with it and took the position that I really just didn't know, but I hoped he had been clean.
Then, in 2007, I read Game of Shadows, by Mark Fainaru-Wada and Lance Williams. That book made the best argument Lance had into a joke. Big time.
Game of Shadows killed my fan status. I was done. From that point on it was only a matter of time. The book illustrated very clearly how easy it is to pass a drug test. The book eventually brought down BALCO and outed many athletes, including Marion Jones (five Olympic medals). I remember telling people that I would never follow track and field or cycling again. The idea that other athletes were somehow not involved seemed impossible to me.
I remember just about falling out of my chair when a Sports Illustrated article about the notorious Victor Conte (BALCO's owner and leader) sitting at his table in front of two framed Denver Bronco jerseys. Nooooooooooo!!!!!
Viewed through this new prism, I turned hostile to my once-hero. Eventually, I just stopped thinking about it. I still ride my indoor cycle religiously, but I almost never ride outside anymore.
As I rode my cycle this evening and looked at the yellow highlights and the yellow "LiveStrong" on the black panel down by my legs, I just shook my head. I couldn't stop thinking about today's news that Armstrong finally has elected to confess (at least in part) and to apologize. I shook my head thinking about how late this is and how unimportant it feels because it came only after he was inescapably-cornered by evidence.
It made me sad even though I thought that ship had sailed. I think the contradiction became clear when I remembered that I had justified the purchase because of cancer research. It would be true to state that Lance Armstrong raised many millions of dollars for cancer research and it would be foolish to argue that none of that money helped people survive cancer. It would also be foolish to say that anywhere near as much money would have been raised if he had not won seven titles.
That leads to the ethical dilemma. Was the good accomplished through cheating and lying worth it? In a pure numbers sense with Machiavellian coldness, more people were helped than hurt. But, I just cannot shake my preference for honesty.
I hate the message to kids that you should win at all costs and cheat if necessary. I hate the idea that a generation of kids will have the example of a man who stood on top of the world because he cheated. I do not want Jacob to consider the fame and notoriety if he faces a tough choice and finds himself offered an easy solution.
I cannot deny that his ruse and dishonesty did a measurable good. That is a fact. He was an inspiration to those fighting for their lives and advanced science for tremendous benefit.
But I will never feel good about how he did it. I will never cease to believe that an equal or even greater good could have come from honesty. It may not have been as much money in as short a time, but I believe it would have been longer-lasting and ultimately more successful. Without cheating, and with perhaps just one Tour finish as an inspiring cancer survivor, I believe LiveStrong could have raised funds for a generation. It certainly would not make people like me shake their heads at the logo today.
I simply cannot take any other position and keep any measure of hope in humanity. And I choose to hope above all else.
