NUMBER 7

Well, he’s done it again, and it was no surprise, but I am as excited as I was 7 years ago, when I first watched Lance Armstrong roll into Paris, and the history books. I am actually feeling a little teary-eyed after watching today’s final stage of the Tour. Seeing Lance all smiles, riding at various times, with interlocked hands, alongside various competitors and teammates and knowing that next year he will not compete made me admittedly a little sad. I mean sure, there will be another winner, and another story, but I think it will be quite sometime before an athlete with the ability to touch so many lives emerges.

I rarely go on about celebrities, and from the sound of things, you might think I idolize Mr. Armstrong, but that isn’t really accurate. I think it is better to say that I am inspired by him. True, I wear one of those fashionable armbands (livestrong, they say) but not because I’m following the masses, or because I think he’s really cool, or even because a treasured friend gave it to me. I wear it as a person who knows what it’s like to have the odds stacked against you, to fight daily to overcome challenges, and to succeed. Often, when I’m having a bad day, or am feeling especially tired, I glance down at my arm and see the now famous mantra, and things look a little less daunting. Afterall, if Lance can defeat cancer, if he can conquer golf ball sized tumors in his stomach, lungs, and brain, who am I to let a little thing like SMA define me?

I saw Lance on an interview today, and I think he was speaking to cynics and people who accuse him of doping (I won’t even go there) when he said something to the effect of “I'm sorry you don't believe in miracles. But this is a hell of a race…” Well, I can’t imagine one person who has ever watched him ride NOT believing in miracles; I know when I watch, I think anything is possible.

Livestrong.