Torn over my LiveStrong wristband. I'm probably the last person in the world wearing it. I know everyone in South Park had theirs surgically removed :)
To me the band has nothing to do with Lance, it has everything to do with remembering my father and friends I've lost to cancer, and honoring them by living fully, getting out and doing the rides, getting into the mountains, going on long runs, spending time with my family, watching killer sunsets -- the stuff they'll never get to do again.
I always feel better when I see someone wearing the LiveStrong band because I assume they've been affected in the same way. We're the ones that have lost someone we loved to a complete motherfucker of a disease.
To me the band has nothing to do with Lance, it has everything to do with remembering my father and friends I've lost to cancer, and honoring them by living fully, getting out and doing the rides, getting into the mountains, going on long runs, spending time with my family, watching killer sunsets -- the stuff they'll never get to do again.
I always feel better when I see someone wearing the LiveStrong band because I assume they've been affected in the same way. We're the ones that have lost someone we loved to a complete motherfucker of a disease.
But now when I look at my wrist I think of an unrepentant asshole who gladly ruined other peoples livelihood and reputations to protect his gravy train, whose only motivation to confess is to get some kind of reduction in punishment and/or return to competition. I've been trying to maintain some notion of separation between Lance and Livestrong, but the two are blurring.
Still, I'm on the fence. Cancer sucks. In the last year of my fathers life, when I watched the toughest man I knew waste away, going on long rides and runs was the only thing that kept me sane. Drinking didnt work. Working didn't work. Talking about it to my wife and friends didnt work. Getting outside, putting my head down, and going until I dropped was the only thing that took the pain away. And when I was gapping on a really long run or bonking on a ride miles from home, I would stare at that yellow piece of rubber, summon my dad's strength and courage, and rise above the moment.
Yep, it's a dirty trick, and I still do it. But its the one that works, it gets me over the crest of the hill, to the downhill side with the tailwind. Every single time.
I probably don't have to wear a yellow rubber band to remember my dad and honor his memory by pushing myself through the hard times. But it's an incredibly powerful way to keep him with me.
This would be so much easier if Lance had just been a hypercompetitive, egomaniacal asshole. If he hadn't gone and done something so good, something that has helped so many people, including me. This is not a cut and dry kind of situation. Boolean logic does not apply. As far as LiveStrong is concerned, it's all shades of grey.
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