AN ALL-AMERICAN BOY

I became obsessed with Lance Armstrong after reading about his overcoming cancer and watching news programs about the Tours De France in which he was the leading cyclist.

I found the sports television channel which was exclusively broadcasting each and every stage of the race. It was difficult, at first, to understand exactly what was going on. Such weird rules as well as weird uniforms. After a week or so of watching every day, I began to understand and could talk with friends I had found that were watching too.

Watching Lance and his teammates made me proud as an American to see the love among them. They all gave such energy to their sport. I learned about their equipment, their food regimen, how they handled a little problem of bladder control. (I didn’t need to know that part.)

I watched daily, enjoying the mountain views, the pastoral scenery, seeing the small towns and then the grand finish in Paris. I was so sorry when it all ended, because I had to wait ‘til next year for more.

I watched in awe as Lance won the race two years in a row. I was sorry it had taken me so long to appreciate his astonishing ability to overcome such odds after fighting cancer and raising millions for his Livestrong Foundation. Lance became my hero.

I tried to watch again the third year, but my passion was gone. The team had broken up and his teammates were scattered to various European teams. I really had none to root for. Lance tried, but it just wasn’t the same.

Now, I don’t want to see him on Oprah (even if I could get her channel, I wouldn’t watch) I don’t want to see or hear from him ever again. He was once my hero, but not anymore.