I just finished reading Lance Armstrong's It's Not About the Bike, which I've been meaning to get to for a long time. I mean, I wear a Livestrong bracelet (in support of my Aunt, my Dad, and all who I've known to have been diagnosed with cancer). Many people, upon hearing of my disease, have recommended that I read his book - it's "inspiring," or "uplifting," is what I'm often told. I have been toying with the idea of becoming physical again - of slowly weaning myself onto an exercise program to improve my health and endurance. I thought reading Lance would help me get over my fear of pushing my body too hard. That, and I really like Lance and his can-do attitude.
Or at least I thought I did.
What a self-congratulatory pompous ass. Other than the social good of drawing public attention to the realities of cancer (this book was written in 2000, when perhaps people weren't talking about it as much), Lance drones on and on about his fortitude and strength and commitment to his sport and for plugging through the horrors of brain surgery and chemo. Don't get me wrong- I do have an underlying admiration for athletes and what they must endure to become champions. I can relate to people who overcome obstacles and persevere no matter what's thrown in their way. I know cancer sucks to high holy heaven and know the darkness of a life-threatening diagnosis with a vague prognosis. But Lance's braggadocio gets stale pretty fast. Though at times he himself admits in his stories that his Texan ways got him in trouble quite a bit and that he had a lot to learn before he became ready for The Tour, that's as far as his humility goes. The rest of the book is spent dramatizing his bicycling victories and the chaos he created for his teammates, fellow bicyclists and his long-suffering wife.
Lemme tell ya about Lance: Lisa, his girlfriend who stayed with him through his cancer and chemo and entire illness gets dumped once he gets better. Lisa doesn't get a "this book is for" mention in the beginning of the book nor does he include a picture of her, yet she was at his bedside mopping up his vomit every day. He soon after married Kik, whom he dumped Lisa for. During their engagement he announces they were moving to Europe so that he could train. Kik finds her a dog a new home and quits her very good job. She goes with him, moves everything in and sets up house and enrolls at a school to learn French. 2 weeks later Lance has a tantrum and the next morning she's forced to pack everything back up to move back to Texas. When they want to have a child, she has to endure IVF (obviously) because the only swimmers he's got left are in the freezer. He keeps calling Kik a "stud" for giving herself shots and putting up with all his crap and as I read it I just want to kick him in the teeth. Surviving cancer and winning the Tour de France are no excuses for being a selfish boor.
Anyway, we all know that eventually, he dumps poor Kik for one Ms. Sheryl Crow. As I read I kept hoping he's matured somewhat by now. I mean, he can't be all that bad if he's hanging out with Robin Williams and Oprah, right?
Commitment, strength, fortitude? I don't think so Lance. Stop wearing your cancer like a badge of honor, stop being a momma's boy and start treating your women right and I might find you respectable. I do like that you story may provide hope to some cancer victims, and I admire your foundation and your tenacity in your sport, but I have to tell you I think my Aunt is a far better person and role model and more huge a hero than you'll ever be. As for inspiration to get me back into an exercise program, you've taught me at least what NOT to do.
I uh, don't recommend this book. Can you tell?
