View full sizeLance Armstrong gave up his battle with the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency, calling its investigation a witch hunt.
Enough is enough.
I never thought Lance Armstrong, of all people, would utter those words.
He never had enough.
Not when he fought cancer.
Not when he took us to victory at the top of those mountains in France seven times.
Not when he fought allegations that he took performance-enhancing drugs.
Not when he passed 500 drug tests, every single one they gave him.
Now the man who made yellow the color of courage is waving the white flag.
What a skirt.
That’s what he used to call any sissy who surrendered.
Armstrong ended his fight last week with the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency, which then stripped away his seven Tour de France titles. The agency said it had “eyewitnesses” who saw Armstrong doping.
Armstrong said the agency had no physical evidence. He called the process a one-sided, unconstitutional witch hunt.
But if he didn’t dope, why give up now?
Giving up now is like entering a no-contest plea. You didn’t admit guilt, but in the court of public opinion, everyone assumes you’re guilty.
What happened to “live strong”?
Silly as it sounds, Lance Amstrong did live strong. He wore the yellow jersey for millions like me who survived cancer. He told us that if he had to choose between winning the Tour de France or having cancer, he’d pick cancer because it made him a better man.
He pedaled for every child bald from leukemia treatments, for every woman who wept over that empty spot on her chest, for every man who felt less of a man after prostrate cancer.
He rode that bike for all of us, through brutal sun and cold rain, down narrow switchback roads and up unforgiving hills that never seemed to end.
Cancer survivors know his story by heart: Lance Armstrong never won a Tour de France until after he got cancer. He was diagnosed in 1996 after the cancer spread from his testicles to his abdomen to his lungs and brain. He endured brain surgery and four rounds of aggressive chemo. Survival didn’t look good.
Then he bounced back to compete in the most grueling competition of all, riding nearly 100 miles a day for three weeks.
He began his comeback in 1998, the year I got cancer. He won his first Tour de France in 1999. Then he won six more in a row. In the three-ring notebook that contains all my health tips, I posted a picture of him on the front and back covers.
One is a picture of him running with the words, “Every day is the day.”
On the back, there’s a black and white photo of him looking away from the camera. His left hand rests on his bald head, right next to a deep curve where the surgeon cut into his brain. The words in yellow read: Just do it.
He did it. Lance Armstrong refused to die.
In his book, “Every Second Matters,” he wrote: “Once you figure out you’re going to live, you have to decide how to, and that’s not an uncomplicated matter. You ask yourself: now that I know I’m not going to die, what will I do? What’s the highest and best use of my self?”
Then he pedaled to victory. He might have done it for ego or money or power, but he also did it for us, for every cancer survivor in the world. And off the bike? He raised $500 million to kick cancer’s butt.
I don’t know if he cheated in cycling. I’d like to believe he quit fighting the doping allegations because cancer taught him something more important than winning: Every second counts, so don’t waste a minute of your life.
Lance Armstrong cheated death at 24. Next month he turns 41.
Is he guilty? Is he innocent?
He’s still alive.
That’s inspiration enough for me.
To reach Regina Brett: rbrett@plaind.com, 216-999-6328 Previous columns online: cleveland.com/brett
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