Inspiration - the Lance Armstrong story

Posted Jul 10, 2002
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Seeking his fourth straight Tour de France victory, Armstrong makes the most out of his second chance

By Linda Robertson Knight Ridder Newspapers (KRT)

MIAMI - Lance Armstrong is building a ranch in Texas. He's naming it ''Milagro.'' Miracle. It is one of those worn-out words, along with hero. We have tried to be more sparing in our use of them since Sept. 11, when survivors and rescuers reacquainted us with the definitions.

But Armstrong's comeback from testicular cancer to win the Tour de France three times, with the likelihood of a fourth straight title and the distinct possibility of a record sixth - that is truly miraculous. And he is a true hero. He doesn't want to be revered or marketed as either. He doesn't carry people out of burning buildings. He rides a bike for a living. Yet his power is undeniable. Just to see him climbing Alpine roads or gliding past fields of sunflowers is an inspiration to anyone who feels defeated. He is the embodiment of hope. He wakes up every day to this fact: He got a second chance. How could he waste it?

In the fall of 1996, after coughing up gobs of blood in his kitchen sink, Armstrong was diagnosed with cancer. Eleven lung tumors, two brain tumors and his right testicle were removed. He underwent three rounds of chemotherapy. On his first attempt at a training ride, he put a helmet on his bald head, pulled a jersey over his yellow skin and had to stop five miles later, totally winded. His agent called 25 teams, begging for a spot. Nobody gave Armstrong the time of day.

Two and a half years after his sport left him for dead, Armstrong won his first Tour. Now, at 30, he's attempting to win the most grueling event in sports for the fourth year in a row. He is in fifth place after three stages, coiling in wait for the time trials, the Alps and the Pyrenees.

He will ride an average of 100 miles per day for three weeks, the equivalent of pedaling from Miami to Yellowstone National Park. His ascents during a mountain stage can add up to 16,000 feet on roads many people would be unable to walk up. The 65-mph descents include hairpin turns with no guardrails. He may encounter hail on the peaks and 90-degree temperatures on the flats. His resting heart rate is 34-36 beats per minute (half that of a normal person), but he can sustain a rate of 188-190 for 35 minutes.

The demands of the Tour are almost incomprehensible, unless you've endured worse. As Armstrong's mother, Linda, told him when he lay in a hospital bed, ''Son, there's not a thing in the world you can't conquer if you beat this.''

Five and a half years after oncologists gave Armstrong a 50-50 chance of survival, his charitable foundation raised $9 million for cancer patients and research. He and his wife, Kristin, have a son and twin daughters, all conceived by in-vitro fertilization from sperm he banked before the chemo treatments.

He earns almost $10 million per year through his U.S. Postal Service Team contract, an endorsement deal with drug maker Bristol-Myers Squibb and motivational speeches. The emphasis on his incredible story obscures his incredible dedication. He wasn't anointed to win the Tour. This is no fairy tale. Cancer not only transformed his body, from that of a brawny triathlete to an 18-pounds-leaner mountain climber, but his mind also, from that of a brash egomaniac to a thoughtful pragmatist.

When he was diagnosed with cancer, he pored over medical journals and Internet sites. He carefully chose his doctors and hospital. He immersed himself in the details of treatment. He has attacked the Tour the same way he attacked his illness, with a thoroughness that allows for all scenarios, except the unpreventable disasters of a crash or illness. ''He made a very conscious decision to do everything he could to make sure he wasn't taking himself or his cycling for granted,'' said Armstrong's coach of 13 years, Chris Carmichael, a Coral Gables High graduate who now runs Carmichael Training Systems in Colorado Springs. ''If you look at the top Tour riders, they are all very gifted athletes. It is Lance's 365/24/7 approach which makes him stand out.'' Armstrong began training for this Tour six weeks after the last one. He has practiced all the key mountain stages at least once. He has practiced in a wind tunnel. He knows exactly how many calories he must consume to prevent a ''bonk'' like the one that almost ruined his race in 2000. He and Carmichael have spent hours at the computer downloading physiological data to calculate Armstrong's ''lactate threshold'' (cross it and his legs turn to concrete) and ''optimal wattage'' (power-to-body weight ratio).

Armstrong paid particular attention to his aerodynamic position in the past year, in order to hold his speed on the uphill grades of the time trials.''He won every time trial last year except the prologue,'' Carmichael said. ''But he keeps looking deeper and trying to figure out how he can go faster. You'll see - he will be able to stay aero longer.'' Carmichael was riding with Armstrong up North Carolina's Beech Mountain in 1998 when Armstrong, on the verge of quitting the sport, rediscovered his passion for the suffering that precedes competition. ''One of his favorite things is doing the training, the legwork, the strategizing,'' said Dan Osipow, director of operations for the U.S. Postal Service Team. ''He relates it to building a company. Part of his challenge is peaking at the right time.''

Carmichael foresees the Tour coming down to stages 9, 15, 16 and 19. He believes Armstrong's team, led by the up-and-coming Spaniard Roberto Heras, should be able to chaperon him through the flat stages - when opponents may make ''suicide breaks'' - and into the late mountain stages that have been shifted closer to the end of the race this year to make it more suspenseful.

The yellow jersey carries no magical powers for Armstrong. It's hard work and the gift of his engine, an efficient cardiovascular system that only he and the likes of Miguel Indurain are born with. Armstrong's comeback is too miraculous for his doubters. They say performance-enhancing drugs, the scourge of his sullied sport, are the only explanation for his feats. But Armstrong is among the most tested athletes in the world, and he has never failed a test. A French court inquiry that has dragged on for two years turned up no convincing evidence that the U.S. Postal Service Team used banned blood-enriching drugs or new pharmacological concoctions not yet on the list. Armstrong ought to stop seeking advice from controversial Italian sports doctor Michele Ferrari, but that relationship doesn't mean he has ingested anything illegal. It's hard to believe he would. After what his body has been through, in the operating room and in the mountains of France, why would he risk damaging it? Why would he need drugs to blunt the pain and danger of a bike race when he has already confronted a life-threatening disease? Armstrong was given a second chance. He's not about to waste it. --- (c) 2002, The Miami Herald.