The Last Days Of Lance Armstrong

      He stood in the middle of Kansas with the entire country around him. But then ... oops, evidence surfaced....California slipped into the ocean. Followed by more evidence... Maine and New Hampshire dropped off the map. And then more evidence. There goes Oregon. Then Florida. As more and more facts surfaced, the country that elevated him fell away. Today, Lance is surrounded by only his posse. Or in this analogy, an acre of supporters. This week, almost all of his sponsors dropped away. Soon, the posse will collapse. And Lance will be standing on a rock where Kansas used to be. Lance Armstrong has denied using performance enhancing drugs to win his seven Tours de France. Now we see the fabric unraveling. We see the mountain of evidence, and we now know that he was the kingpin of an extensive organized crime ring involving the governing body, sponsors, trainers, and a cast of thousands.

     It could have been different.

     Lance could have come clean right from the start when the first serious allegations came out. It would have saved all of this trouble from happening. America forgives and forgets very easily. He could have avoided all this. Instead, the Texan in him - the brashness that drew attention to him in the first place - dug in his heals and held his ground - fooled into believing that the people he bullied would remain silent, and that those who feared his powerful wrath would leave him alone. He was also fooled into believing that the fortress he had built around him would hold back the advancing mob. Had he come clean immediately, his entire persona would have been elevated further. He would have been made the patron saint of forgiveness. And we would have moved on.

     It could have been altogether different.

     As outlined in David Walsh's book 'From Lance to Landis', Armstrong's ego couldn't take losing to European farm boys. He had dominated the American scene as a clean rider, but when he made the jump to European racing, he got has ass handed to him. That's when "the program" began in earnest. Lance emerged as a Tour contender in 1999, one year after the Festina Affair, a drug scandal involving a French team at the TdF. Lance came along as a cancer survivor with the personality and panache of a Bernard Hinault, and the UCI saw the opportunity to present a new and cleaner image to the world. 'Look what we have done. We have entered a new era in sport. We have a new hero.' (Actually, I think the UCI was caught with their pants down when Lance won the '99 TdF. They didn't have the technology to catch him, and after the huge response by the cancer survivor community, they didn't dare try.)  Now we're learning that the reality was completely foul. The drug problem was made worse than ever. Lance, quickly capitalizing financially on his 'success' and the popularity of his cause, suddenly had the means to become the mob boss of cycling.

    It should have been different.

    Maybe I'm an idealistic fool who still believes in honesty, but it seems to me that if I had super powers (other than my sense of humor and my Tortilla Soup recipe), I would use them for good not evil. Lance's super powers are his intense personality, fearlessness, and his amazing athletic ability. He could have used them for good. Instead of going to the dark side and delving into the drug world, why didn't he use his brashness, fearlessness, cockiness, and powerful riding to destroy the Omerta from within? Demand that they race clean. Call them out. Challenge them. Change the world.

     If anyone could have done it, it was the Lance freakin' Armstrong that I knew before the drugs. He was a superior athlete with an ass whoopin' personality. That's a Texan that we could all respect. I saw it with my own eyes almost every weekend as an announcer in 1991-92-93. He was a specimen of confidence and heart. He despised losing. He did amazing things on the bike to prevent it. He took no shit from anyone. He was awesome.

      Instead, he took the lowest road possible and drove it to the end of the earth.

      The problem here is more than a question about simply using drugs. He has railroaded innocent people, ruined careers, shattered opportunities, squashed dreams, stolen monies, and generally f***ed everything up for an entire sport.

     And it didn't have to be that way.

Soft winter. Hard body.

A mild Winter makes for a fast Spring. Every bike racer I know is going to be flying come April because they're all out there training like madmen in this warm winter that we've been having. No snow. Temps in the mid-30s every day. We've had summers that have struggled to be this nice.
While out for a ride today with a friend, we ran into a couple of friends riding in the opposite direction. We hadn't seen them since Labor Day, so we stopped to say hi. Rather than begin with a customary handshake, one of them reached over and pinched my belly to see if I had lost, gained, or maintained weight.
"Yeah, you're having a good winter," he remarked.
That's how cyclists think.
We all have the same question: how are the others doing? And how do I compare?
Am I getting dropped - before we even get on the bike?
Is everyone else working harder than me?
Are my miles adequate?
Did I manage my diet better this time?
Will it matter that I gave up a long list of foods?
Will it matter that I haven't had any Hint of Lime Tostitos all winter?
We'll find out in March when the first race finally arrives. That's when we'll be able to look around and see who spent too much time at the office and who spent too much time with a bowl of ice cream in their lap. Who is having a tough time fitting into their jersey. Who came back from a trip to Florida tan and fit.
And no matter what: we'll all lie about how much we've been training.
But we'll know better. EVERYONE is going to come to the first race in great shape.
Dammit!

Fig Newtons

They changed the packaging. For years and years, Fig Newtons were packaged in two cellophane sleeves. Lined up back to front, each Newton was spooning the one next to it. The package wasn't re-sealable; you just had to fold the ends over and know that the next time you came back to it, the first one would have a crusty shell. But it was OK. We survived.
Grape Nuts used to come in a package WITHOUT a liner altogether. Just a bunch of nuts running wild in a tightly sealed cardboard box (reminds me of my college living arrangements).
But the Fig Newtons at least had the sleeve - I guess it was put there to let you know when you were half done.
And every now and then, you'd notice that one of the Newtons had turned inside the sleeve. Just 90 degrees. Just enough to stand out. Just enough to make me appreciate that it had a little attitude. I mean, in a mechanized process that consistently places each cookie in the sleeve oriented correctly, it astounded me that one could find the energy to turn itself. Cheeky bastard. You go, man! Don't let "The Man" force you into conforming. Be your own . . . cookie.
Well, apparently Fig Newton got tired of individuality among its cookies, so it changed the packaging to prevent such behavior. They did it under the guise of "re-sealability", but we know better.

Unhappy Fans?

Growing up in Detroit makes me a Lions fan by default. I'm not a bandwagon-type fan; I've been a casual observer for YEARS. I've been to only two games in my lifetime, and I've never owned/wore an NFL jersey. For years and years, my autumnal Sunday routine has always been to go for a long bike ride and then spend the afternoon watching the hapless Lions discover new and creative ways to lose. They've been consistent losers for my entire life having only 5 seasons with 10+ wins since 1960. A few years ago, they made NFL history by losing every game on the schedule.
This year, they turned the corner. They magically exceeded all pre-season predictions. They won 10 games and made it to the playoffs. They were exciting to watch. They had some thrilling moments. They also lost out in the first round of the playoffs.
And to listen to the sports talk radio shows in this town, you'd think they went 0-16 again.
First of all, I'm sorry to admit that I occasionally listen to sports radio. I only do it to feel smarter.
Everyone in this town - or I should say, everyone who made it on the air, had something biting and negative to say about the season. Everyone had suggestions on how to fix the problem. Almost every single caller (and host, for that matter) bitched and moaned and complained about everything under the sun. The defensive coordinator should be hanged in Grand Circus Park. They have no running game. They should trade the entire offensive line. Get a new quarterback. Trade Megatron. (Seriously, that was brought up a LOT.)
I never heard anyone say this: "it was an exciting season to watch, and that's all I asked for."
Nobody looked forward to next year.
Nope. The general consensus that I heard was that the season was a disappointment. It was a barrage of negative criticism that lasted the entire week following their collapse against the Saints.
Maybe that's just how football fans are in general. Maybe everyone is miserable except the team that wins the Super Bowl. Seems pretty sad to me that they're completely unable to enjoy the good things that happened in a record-setting year. What are you supposed to get out of being a sports fan if that's your reaction to a winning season?
Imagine if this is how bike racing fans felt during bike racing season. Imagine if every time Garmin-Cervelo (now Barracuda) lost a race.
"They need to trade Tyler Farrar."
"Vaughters needs to go."
"They need to clean house."
"What is the deal with VDV? Ever since his contract was extended, he's been phoning it in."
"Do you think they should get rid of Zabriskie and maybe to go after another time trialist?"
Shoot me now.
I'll gladly fly to France, stand along a road for 6 hours, scream at them as they roll past, and not give a damn who wins.
Once again, I think cycling does it right.

Taking a break.

If I were to spin this story if I worked for, say, a government entity, it would go like this:
In an effort to allow my mind to fully refresh and recover from the intense thought that comes with completing two full books within a few weeks of each other, I have decided to take some well-deserved time away from the computer keyboard.
The truth (pictured) is a little less glamorous. I can't type very well.

Book #3

I wonder how real writers\authors do it. How do they write books?
I'm guessing that they are much more efficient than I. They probably use something fancy like an outline or something. They probably go into it with some idea of the structure. I'm betting that they know what their book is going to look like long before they type the first sentence.
I have a very loose idea of the general look and feel that I'm aiming for when I start a book, but I don't even come close it with the final product. For instance, Roadie started in my head as a 25-volume set of humorous encyclopedias on the topic of bike racing but ended up as a thick pamphlet.
Book #2 (as yet untitled) started as a humorous "War and Peace" for kids. A 752-page romp through the cycling world through the eyes of a 14-year-old. But somehow 750-pages is a little ambitious for a romp, so I scaled it back to about the size of a thick pamphlet.
I was a little more realistic when i sat down to write Book #3. It began as a thick pamphlet which I stretched out (by enlarging the font) to something more hefty, about as thick as a Nikon owner's manual.
Stay tuned. It's a good one.
The process I use is probably wrong. I just write. And when I get to a certain number of words, say 60,000, I look at what I have and decide if that's long enough. If not, I keep going. When I reach a comfortable number of words, then I go back through and cut out everything that doesn't sound right. It's a lot easier than you might think.
Oh sure, I jot down some notes. I have certain points that I need to hit, but otherwise, it's just a challenge to see how many words I can get into a single Word document. Then cut some out.
Book #2 was a narrative story, so I should have had some idea of where it was going. I didn't, but I should have. We'll see if the publisher notices.
Book #3 is more like Roadie, a collection of humorous lessons, thoughts, and anecdotes on the topic of relationships.
Yep, you read that right.
It's short by design. I stopped writing when I reached 20,000 words (approx. 80 pages) and then trimmed it back to about 19,500. Amazingly, I could only find 500 words that didn't sound right.
If you notice the books in the humor section of your local bookshop (if it hasn't been boarded up by now), you'll see that they're pretty small. Many of them are the size of a Nikon owner's manual. Mine will fit right in.
Now while I'm sitting on pins and needles waiting to hear from VeloPress regarding Book #2, I'm beginning an even tougher process of finding a publisher for #3.
Stay tuned. Should be a fun 2012.

Book #2

When I sat down and wrote Roadie, I had no plans to become a writer; I still wanted to be an astronaut or a game show host. I only wrote it to see if it could be done. Seriously. I didn't look any further than getting it on store shelves. But then it did well. It won the Michigan Notable Book award in 2009. It sold. Suddenly, I found my calling.
So, what next?
I had a couple of conversations with the people at VeloPress about what the next project should be. I suggested a cycling-related book that they had no interest in. Apparently, a romantic comedy western wasn't on their radar. Instead, they wanted a book aimed at younger readers. The 'tweeners'. Apparently, there's a shortage of sports books for that age group. Supernatural vampire ghost romance novels?? Plenty. Sports? Not as much.
On top of that, VeloPress has had a difficult time cracking the young reader market. It's a hard audience to write for, but a lucrative market to tap into.
I, as I tried to warn them, know absolutely nothing about the 'tweener demographic. Zero. I'm not even sure if I'm spelling it correctly.
This, then, is a match made in heaven. Together, we'll go far.
So I set off to write a fictional story. Starting with a very daunting blank page, I had to develop a story line, create characters, develop a conflict, add a subplot, tie it up nicely, and make it reach an audience I know nothing about. The only thing I had in my favor was that it would be centered around the sport of bike racing. That's it.
I submitted a very weak first draft, and received three pages of notes from the publisher. I took it back and changed everything but the font.
I just completed it on Monday. Sent it to VeloPress, and am now waiting to hear if they're going to buy it or pass on it. No guarantees. It might end up in a dumpster somewhere.
Let me give you a TV Guide-style hint of the story line: a kid who lives for football discovers bike racing by accident and becomes hooked by the end of the book. There are no supernatural occurrences, no vampires, and no pirates.
Now, let me share a little about the writing process (in case I'm never asked to speak at a book signing). I went on long bike rides without my iPod. That's the secret to uninhibited creative thought. When I listen to music, I get distracted. When I don't, I can think much more clearly. As such, I do my best thinking on the bike - constantly dumping ideas into my voice recorder app.
The creativity ebbs and flows. I went through periods in which I couldn't stand to look at it. And I went through periods where I couldn't type fast enough.
We'll see how it goes.
While I'm waiting, I'm working on Book #3. It has nothing to do with cycling. It's a humor book on relationships.
You see, I'm a bit of en expert ...... on humorous relationships.