Lance Armstrong influenced me in ways more than one.
I came across him, as many of us did in India- more through his books than his bikes. I read 'Its not about the bike' many years back. I read a lot of books, hundreds every year by my reckoning. There is so much written wealth out there, and so it is extremely rare that I re-read a book. Books I have gone back to a second time, I can count on my fingers: some PGW, Hitchhikers Guide, English August, Omar Khayyam's Rubaiyat, Karunatilaka's Chinaman and Lance Armstrong's 'Its not about the bike'. Impressed, I alsowent on to read a couple of other books he had written.
And he became my hero.
Cycling was a small part of it, though it was a vital part. I have never claimed to be an athlete: I am an ungainly and unsuccessful runner, I cannot swim to save my life (literally!), and most sports leave me cold. I have always dwelt in the world of books and knowledge, leaping from genre to genre, engaging in world class verbal gymnastics, wrestling with fascinating litrerary concepts, diving enthusiastically into the whole ocean of knowledge if you will...
However, there was one physical activity I could always do. And that was cycling. There is something about two wheels, a paddle, and sitting atop them which liberates my athleticaly-atrophied muscles. I love to cycle, have done so since I was in my teens well into my college days.
Lance Armstrong did two things for me - he convinced me that cycling was possible at any age,and joy, oh, joy - he made it into an actual sport! Not just any sport, but the toughest, meanest, highest-endurance sport of them all. And, I the most ungifted athlete of all time, could do it!
While Mr. Armstrong did manage to get me to go buy a bicycle and start cycling around town (and between towns) in my middle age, what made him the real hero for me was his battle against cancer.
Cancer always has been a personal nightmare for me - ever since I lost a string of relatives to its unremitting clutches. Above all, it claimed my mother - in a cruel, remorseless, relentless and debilitating way which only cancer can. I saw thousands of people with the curse, hundreds dying to it, tens which died in front of my eyes - as I spent my last days with her in hospital. I saw very few who beat it temperorily, and almost none who claimed lasting victory.
And here was this man, who got Stage Four cancer when he was 22, which metasised through his body, who not only fought it and beat it, but lived to become a champion many times over in the toughest race known to man! And, how, since then, he set up perhaps the world's best organisation to fight the dread, and gave hope to millions of the afflicted worldwide.
He gave hope to my mother too - 'Its not about the bike' was the only book she read in her hospital bed, as she fought the disease. And if I remember right, she read it twice too...
So, Armstrong became my hero. I read all his books. Bought his bright yellow bracelets. Bought a bike, became a bit healthier as I used it. My Nike shoes are black and yellow and support his foundation. My presentations at work alluded to his quotes and his struggle and his wins.
I resolutely refused to believe that he ever took any performance enhancers. For someone who had conquered Death, what were a few mountains on the French countryside? Though now it seems very clear that he messed up; the evidence seems overwhelming. But will it change what I think of him? I am sure he is as good a cyclist that he ever was, though I am pretty sure that he would not have won the Toure seven times - he would still have won it twice or maybe thrice.
But he still would have gotten cancer, he would still have fought it, he would still beat it, and he would still help others beat it with Livestrong.
So will I go and buy his black and yellow Livestrong jacket, and wear it proudly? You bet I would. Will I still cycle around town in those shoes? Definitely. Is he still a hero to me? He most certainly is.
Because, you see, it really was not about the bike...
I came across him, as many of us did in India- more through his books than his bikes. I read 'Its not about the bike' many years back. I read a lot of books, hundreds every year by my reckoning. There is so much written wealth out there, and so it is extremely rare that I re-read a book. Books I have gone back to a second time, I can count on my fingers: some PGW, Hitchhikers Guide, English August, Omar Khayyam's Rubaiyat, Karunatilaka's Chinaman and Lance Armstrong's 'Its not about the bike'. Impressed, I alsowent on to read a couple of other books he had written.
And he became my hero.
Cycling was a small part of it, though it was a vital part. I have never claimed to be an athlete: I am an ungainly and unsuccessful runner, I cannot swim to save my life (literally!), and most sports leave me cold. I have always dwelt in the world of books and knowledge, leaping from genre to genre, engaging in world class verbal gymnastics, wrestling with fascinating litrerary concepts, diving enthusiastically into the whole ocean of knowledge if you will...
However, there was one physical activity I could always do. And that was cycling. There is something about two wheels, a paddle, and sitting atop them which liberates my athleticaly-atrophied muscles. I love to cycle, have done so since I was in my teens well into my college days.
Lance Armstrong did two things for me - he convinced me that cycling was possible at any age,and joy, oh, joy - he made it into an actual sport! Not just any sport, but the toughest, meanest, highest-endurance sport of them all. And, I the most ungifted athlete of all time, could do it!
While Mr. Armstrong did manage to get me to go buy a bicycle and start cycling around town (and between towns) in my middle age, what made him the real hero for me was his battle against cancer.
Cancer always has been a personal nightmare for me - ever since I lost a string of relatives to its unremitting clutches. Above all, it claimed my mother - in a cruel, remorseless, relentless and debilitating way which only cancer can. I saw thousands of people with the curse, hundreds dying to it, tens which died in front of my eyes - as I spent my last days with her in hospital. I saw very few who beat it temperorily, and almost none who claimed lasting victory.
And here was this man, who got Stage Four cancer when he was 22, which metasised through his body, who not only fought it and beat it, but lived to become a champion many times over in the toughest race known to man! And, how, since then, he set up perhaps the world's best organisation to fight the dread, and gave hope to millions of the afflicted worldwide.
He gave hope to my mother too - 'Its not about the bike' was the only book she read in her hospital bed, as she fought the disease. And if I remember right, she read it twice too...
So, Armstrong became my hero. I read all his books. Bought his bright yellow bracelets. Bought a bike, became a bit healthier as I used it. My Nike shoes are black and yellow and support his foundation. My presentations at work alluded to his quotes and his struggle and his wins.
I resolutely refused to believe that he ever took any performance enhancers. For someone who had conquered Death, what were a few mountains on the French countryside? Though now it seems very clear that he messed up; the evidence seems overwhelming. But will it change what I think of him? I am sure he is as good a cyclist that he ever was, though I am pretty sure that he would not have won the Toure seven times - he would still have won it twice or maybe thrice.
But he still would have gotten cancer, he would still have fought it, he would still beat it, and he would still help others beat it with Livestrong.
So will I go and buy his black and yellow Livestrong jacket, and wear it proudly? You bet I would. Will I still cycle around town in those shoes? Definitely. Is he still a hero to me? He most certainly is.
Because, you see, it really was not about the bike...
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