My ride with Lance

I was thinking the other day after the Tour de France ended about how my life has parallelled Lance Armstrong's cycling career in several ways. I first got into cycling during middle school, about the year 1990, when Lance first came on the scene as a top amateur. He turned pro after a disappointing showing in the 1992 Olympics, which were a few months after a wreck ended my dreams and plans of racing my bike, at least for a few years. He did not have success at first, finishing last in his first race. I guess he recovered and learned better than I did, because within a year's time he was U.S. Champion, a Tour de France stage winner, and was about to win the World Championship road race. Things were not so well for me in 1993; I did not have many friends, but I got my first job.

In 1995 he was involved in one of the most dramatic but tragic Tours ever, when his teammate Fabio Cassartelli died in a crash and Lance dedicated a stage win to him a few days later. That was nevertheless a beautiful Tour, perhaps in part because I was in Spain at the time and only heard bits and pieces of what was going on. It made it even more dramatic and mysterious to me. Those were beautiful days.
In 1996 I saw him race in the Olympics in Atlanta shortly before he was diagnosed with cancer. Interestingly, this was during the time that my dad was being treated for cancer. I did not respond well to these sad events, nor to the end of Miguel Indurain's dominance of the Tour, and that coupled with some misdirected religious zeal to cause me to renounce my interest in cycling. I trashed my massive collection of old bike magazines (actually I think I recycled them), and I did not ride my bike again until the spring of 1998 (almost two years).

It was with great hesitation that I finally did get interested again, just as Lance was returning to competition, in the spring of '98. During that semester, I went on a few rides around campus of my college as my friend Craig ran. That summer, I followed the Tour a little bit (I forgot this until a year ago when I found that I had recorded the tv coverage). In 1999, I went on a ride or two on my old riding roads, and Lance winning the Tour renewed my interest there too. I even dared (with the encouragement of my friend Joel Fancey) to purchase a bike magazine. I had to set aside religious qualms about this in order to do so. In the summer of 2000, I was again eager to see the Tour, and was able to watch it some in the hotels where I was staying as I worked for Mr. Mosteller's playground company. I also followed in 2001, with heightened interest because of interaction with James and Anthony Birdsong, who was a long-time cycling fan. I had not ridden the bike since '99, I do not think, but that beautiful Tour inspired me to take it on a spin or two. I was still struggling with confusing religious compulsions, though, and when they came on to set aside the bike, I did that fearfully.

In the summer of 2002, the assistant brainshrinker encouraged me to allow myself the pleasure of riding my bike. I did it, even though it was difficult and guilt-inducing at first. This is I guess where the parallel to Lance breaks down; I did not take up cycling again steadily until four years after his return from cancer. But then it picks up again, as I have been riding consistently for the past three years, just as Lance has been riding into history.

Now comes his retirement, and in a week and a couple of days, my first real job. Not that my previous jobs have all been bad, but that they have not been what I wanted to do long-term. And this is what I want to do long term. So just as Lance has left cycling, it seems that I am leaving childhood, or adolescence, or "the nest," or whatever you may call it. I hope I do not crash.