or

 

First of all, let’s just roll with the assumption that there’s some sort of chemical imbalance involved in making the choice to be what can only be described as “decked out” in pro cycling gear at any point in one’s life.  Even if you’re a pro cyclist, that’s no excuse for looking like a tightly cased sausage in public.  That said, my gripe with Lance Armstrong lies not in his alleged use of performance enhancing drugs, but in the fact that his alleged use of performance enhancing drugs has made me pay attention to anything related to pro cycling.  Seven Tour De France wins… don’t really care.  A courageous comeback from testicular cancer to rise to the top of his profession… meh.  Starting a charity that has helped thousands of people to deal with life-altering afflictions… yawn.  The fact that he almost certainly used chemical enhancements to accomplish all f these things… Goddamn it, I sort of care.  I can’t help it.  Blowing out someone’s candle to let yours shine brighter is no noble thing, but a candle that big being blown out in such a public spectacle… makes me feel a little warm and fuzzy inside, I have to admit.  Somehow, I think, him being outed as a cheat and a liar makes me a better person… or at least, significantly more confident in my cynicism and ability to loathe anybody more successful than I am.  The fact is, I don’t have the motivation or the gumption to cheat my way to even one Tour De France victory, let alone seven.  If you think about it, that’s a feat worthy of acclaim all by itself.

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