As I've mentioned before, I've taken up recreational cycling. It's difficult to make the transition from totally sedentary to anything-but, and I've been looking for ways to motivate myself to get on it and stay with it. I bought a helmet so I can go on roads with higher traffic and better tires and a more comfortable seat so I can ride for longer periods of time without getting as tired/sore. I also bought Lance Armstrong's book It's Not About the Bike, because I thought it would be inspirational and I usually try to read someone else's story whenever I start something new so that I can try to love it the way that they do. I started shaving my legs because he mentioned that he does it, but beyond that, I haven't learned too much from reading it.
It turns out that Lance Armstrong is kind of an ass, which is something I'm sure it's illegal to say about a cancer survivor. He talks about growing up without a father and the anger and resentment that comes from that just sort of carries throughout his whole story. He never really seemed to deal with or get rid of the chip on his shoulder, he just got cancer and was forced into a different paradigm of life where his strength and resolve were, ultimately, powerless. Sure, they had a lot to do with his ability to recover and go on to achieve incredible things in his life after his illness, but he, in and of himself, didn't beat cancer. He had a skilled team of doctors and some amazing opportunities that ultimately led him through the disease. He had some of the best people in the country working like mad and using the best resources available in modern medicine to fight the disease. And, on a certain level, I'm sure that his physical condition and genetics contributed in a way that anybody else's who wasn't a world-class athlete wouldn't have. But he didn't do anything to beat cancer. He didn't work toward some incredible goal. He just endured it. He was a complete ass before he got cancer and, frankly, he was still kind of an ass even after it. Just an ass with a wrist-band foundation.
Like I said, I'm sure it's illegal to say stuff like this about someone who's been through such unbelievable circumstances, and I know that there are probably people all over the world would react violently to this idea, but honestly, based on reading his book, nothing about Lance Armstrong's character or self-discipline saved him from his cancer. He got lucky.
It's probably easy for me to say all this because I've never had to face down a terminal disease. I mean, I know people who have had cancer and I've known people who died from it, but I, personally, have never had to go through it. I'm sure I would be writing a very different 'blog if it were a real thing knocking at my doorstep, but on a certain level I don't know... it seems to me like the real issue is learning how to accept the fact that there are two possible outcomes and being willing/able to face your fears in light of that. And, from the book, it's not something that Lance Armstrong ever seemed to do. He clung so hard to idea of living that he never really seemed to deal with the idea of dying, because to do so would mean admitting that it was even a possibility. He never talks about preparing himself for death in any tangible way. He never sought resolution for anything. It reads like he never thought he would die.
And I guess maybe that's what's supposed to be so inspirational about the book. Maybe the will to live is the most important component in struggling through cancer, but as a story, Lance Armstrong remains something of a static character for that precise reason: he never really answered the question "What if I die?" As a result, his beliefs didn't change, his attitudes didn't change, he never had to give anything up and, with exception of one of his testicles and a microscopic amount of brain tissue (along with his hair, for a while), he didn't really lose anything. His health recovered. His career recovered. He regained his wealth. He went on to achieve an unheard of level of success in his profession and become an international celebrity. I'm not saying the guy doesn't have a great life or that he hasn't survived against overwhelming odds. I'm not even saying he doesn't deserve the fame and recognition he has. It just seems like the message of his book is the same as every other bit of self-help on the market: "Don't back down and don't give up and, if you make it to the end, you'll succeed."
But where does that leave the rest of us? What about those of us who weren't born on a bicycle? What about those of us who weren't on track to be Olympic-level athletes before tragedy struck? What about those of us who don't have the option to fly to any hospital in the country to get the best help and healing available? What are we supposed to do?
This is why I'm disappointed with Lance Armstrong's book: he is a very gifted person and he does have amazing abilities... but he never seems to speak to anybody that isn't playing on his level. He tells his story, and it's an amazing one, but he never seems to have any practical advice for someone struggling along in the trenches. I mean, I understand that this is probably where the endurance thing comes in--keep working and don't let it kill you--but where does the hope come from? Are you really trying to convince me that if I just try really hard and give 110% in my life and my crappy job at Home Desperate, I'll win seven Tours de France? Are really trying to tell me that strong people who fight hard don't still die from cancer?
Before everybody starts trying to explain why I'm stupid or wrong or whatever, let me just say that I'm not mad that I read the book and I don't hate Lance Armstrong. In fact, I might even like the book better if I wasn't going through all the crap I'm dealing with right now. But I think there's a difference between having a tangible thing to work toward because of what you hope for and standing naked in your bathroom with a dull, bloody razor and legs that look like you have some sort of infectious skin disease just because Lance Armstrong does it. In the former, you work through what you really believe and why and, in the end, stand firm on the principles that result from engaging that process. In the latter, you just institute a new tradition hoping that one day it will take on meaning for you.
But I still enjoy cycling. And I like having smooth legs. And I feel like, for now, those are good enough reasons to continue...
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