It’s not about the bike, it’s about honesty

I first came across Lance Armstrong years ago when I was given the book It’s Not About the Bike at Christmas in a sort of lucky dip type book swap. I found the book fascinating, and was impressed with Armstrong’s strength and determination.

When this fuss about doping first came up, I ignored it. I knew the man; I’d read his book. You know when you know someone you believe in them? That’s what I did. So in the latest round of protestations I was willing to take his word for it rather than believing the officials.

Then we come to the point where he’s admitted to it. I understand there’s the pressure to succeed. I understand he wanted to win.

But giving into the pressure? Then these endless protestations, these lies about lies? That’s what hurts. He was a symbol of life after cancer, of hope after near death, that you could come back and be stronger than ever, better than ever.

That was a lie. And that’s what upsets me the most. Not that he cheated to win a competition or few, but that he let down all those to whom he gave hope.


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