My love/hate feelings for Lance Armstrong

Lance Armstrong via New York Times
[Armstrong Drops Fight Against Doping Charges]

I just learned that Lance Armstrong will be stripped of all titles he has won from 1998 on. That includes seven Tour de France titles, a bronze medal from the Olympics and many other challenges that he's entered and won. For the past decade, he has been fighting against accusations of illegal doping.

Cycling? Is it that serious? 


I have to admit that I'm not a huge fan of cycling. Okay, I'm hard pressed to remember ever watching the Tour de France at all. But still, I know who Lance Armstrong is and I know that this scandal has been dogging him for a very long time. My relationship with Lance centers around his cancer experience. He is a testicular cancer survivor and the founder of a cancer non-profit, Live Strong. Haven't we all seen (or owned) one of those bright yellow wristbands that said "Live Strong"?

Being a cancer survivor, I am always inspired and encouraged by other survivors who emerge from the dark shadow of cancer to reclaim their position in life and to excel in ways that they may not have done before cancer. As a human being... I find those stories so remarkable. But as a cancer survivor, I find them also troubling and difficult.

Before cancer, Lance Armstrong was an athlete. A world class athlete dedicated to his sport. He was a young man, taking the cycling world by storm when he was diagnosed with stage 3 testicular cancer. At his diagnosis, the prognosis was grim because his cancer had metastasized to his brain and his lungs. But, alternative therapies, a world class neurosurgeon and just plain good fortune worked in his favor and his cancer was treated favorably and he went into remission.

If his story ended right there... it would be remarkable and worthy of a Hallmark movie. But... it doesn't.

Lance Armstrong goes on after his cancer treatment to win the Tour de France an unprecedented SEVEN times. A feat that was unheard of and never accomplished before him. (and I'm not sure if it will be accomplished again any time soon) So, after becoming this mega-super-fantastical cycling wonder... he goes on to start a cancer non-profit that ends up changing the way that the world views cancer survivors. He inserts a new phrase into our lexicon, LIVE STRONG and again, sets the world on fire.

Again... if he had done just one of these things and not all of these things, no one would say that his life wasn't well-lived and very accomplished. But, he's done all of these things. And, from the sidelines, it appears that he's done them with sheer determination and grit.

...and that's why I sort of love him and I sort of hate him.

Sigh. Is there anything he can't do? 


See... I admire his ability to accomplish what no one else has in his sport. I admire his ability to overcome a disease that was set to take him down. I admire his ability to build an organization out of nothing that has created positive and wonderful changes for other survivors. But sheesh... with the bar set this high, it puts a lot of pressure on me as a survivor to be superwoman.

I'm not your Superwoman. 


Those who know me, know that I really detest that "black woman as superwoman" meme that permeates our culture. Black women, as Zora Neale Hurston so aptly stated, are often the mules of the earth. We carry all the burdens of others, along with our own and we keep moving forward. We tend to wear the badge of "superwoman" like its an honor and a privilege. (I honestly, do not feel that it is that) But being a black woman and a breast cancer survivor... some days I feel that the expectation to be this superhero is a heavy burden on my life.

Physical ailments that slow me down. Mental acuity that is not quite as sharp. Fears of recurrence. Seasons of loneliness, depression and fear. Constantly wondering and worrying about the toxicity of our food, our products and our world in general -- and wondering whether or not I can overcome what feels like a plot to make every one sick. Worrying about love relationships. Wondering whether I can ever feel whole enough to allow myself to be loved. Frustrated that infertility is what's left.

These are some of the burdens that this "mule" carries every day. These are the winds that keep my superwoman cape waving... because while these thoughts are constantly swirling around in my mind, I keep my chin up and my head held high so that I don't worry others with my burdens. That's not what superwomen do. We hold it in and shoulder on. We carry our weights and baggage so that we don't inconvenience others. We feel obligated to carry it all and keep moving, hoping that our lives only serve to make others lives better. Never inconvenienced. Never hard.

Do you know how hard that is? Every day? *sigh*


And then there's Lance Armstrong. Looking strong and fit, probably more fit than he was before cancer. Accomplishing more post-cancer than he ever did before. I look at him with awe.... and frustration.

I cannot change being a survivor of breast cancer. I'm not sure that I would want to if I could. But I am not superwoman. And while I presume that it isn't Lance's goal to make other survivors feel badly if they can't do what he does (and what he makes look easy and simple)... I'm here to say that some days, that's exactly what it does.

*shrug*

I feel badly for Lance. Giving up on something is hard. Being accused of something you didn't do is such a horrible feeling. I'm choosing to believe that he didn't dope. I'm choosing to believe in the hero archetype that he presents to the world because... well some days I really need a hero to look up to. And for all the ways that his presence challenges me in ways that make me uncomfortable, he inspires me still. Even in the midst of a failure, his grace is absolutely awesome.

Well done Lance Armstrong.

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