I am happy that I have entered a relatively quiet period in my recovery from my allogeneic (donor) stem cell transplant and that things seem to be going well.  I am returning to something closer to a normal life, whatever that is anymore, and my mind has turned to other musings.

So, I thought I would write about something other than multiple myeloma and stem cell transplants, which brings me to the Lance Armstrong story.

As an avid cyclist, weekend warrior, and cancer patient, I have been fascinated by the Lance story and I have followed it closely.  To me, it reads like a Greek tragedy, a man brought down by excess hubris.

First of all, I would like to say that Lance was one of my heroes.

When I was first diagnosed with multiple myeloma, I received several copies of Lance’s book “It’s Not About The Bike” from friends.  It was one of the first things I read, and it was inspirational.

His story is, of course, at this point well known: Armstrong is a talented rising cycling star, diagnosed with metastatic testicular cancer.  After intensive treatments, which incidentally factors in a potential return to cycling, he beats the cancer.  He then goes on to win seven Tour de France titles, to start the foundation Livestrong to help cancer patients, and to become a household name and marketing machine.

To me and to many other cancer patients, here is a guy who not only survived his cancer treatments and was cured of his cancer, but went on to dominate an athletic endeavor of the highest level.

It changes the way that you look at cancer.   You do not just have to crawl under a rock.  It is not something just to endure. You can excel. There is hope.  It motivated me to get back on the bike as soon as possible after treatments.

Well, it turns out that the whole mystic is largely based on a lie.  While Lance has continued to refuse to publically admit it, the overwhelming preponderance of evidence is clear: Lance was a doper!

Now I fully understand that within the context of his sport at the time, everyone was doing it. It is clear from multiple accounts that in order to seriously compete at the highest level, particularly in lengthy multi-stage races such as the Tour de France, doping was an essential part of the game.

Certain less desirable aspects of Lance’s personality are also coming into focus.  He is highly egotistical, driven, and competitive.  It seems that meant, to him, if being the best cyclist required doping, he would be the best doper as well.

Through all this, Lance continued to live the lie and to live it well.  Multiple large homes, private jets, and an extensive art collection were all part of the trappings.

But it has all come crashing down, as almost all of his former teammates and fellow cyclists have come forward with credible accounts of what was really going on.  His titles are gone, his endorsement contracts have disappeared, and he has stepped down as the head of Livestrong.

To me, there are several tragedies here.

First, it is inconceivable to me as a cancer patient that after surviving cancer treatment that one would willingly subject their body to the potential ramifications of performance-enhancing drugs such as steroids, testosterone, growth hormone, and erythropoietin, regardless of the reward.  Indeed this is one of the rationalizations I used for years for saying Lance must be clean.

The second is that Lance has, at least to this point, missed an opportunity to be a true hero and come forward and confess.  He has continued to stonewall and obfuscate, no doubt on the advice of counsel, to shield him from personal liability.   To confess and apologize now, he loses nothing.  Everyone knows he did it, everyone knows it was part of the culture of the sport, so why not use this as an opportunity to help clean up the sport of cycling.  More importantly, why not use this as an opportunity to show real moral courage and once again be a hero and a sign of hope for cancer patients.

The third tragedy here is that Lance has continued to hide behind the veil of cancer and Livestrong.   The battle cry from his defenders is always, “But look at all that he does to help fight cancer.”  Well okay, let’s look at that.  The cynic in me is always suspicious of the symbiotic relationship between high profile celebrities and their organizations such as Livestrong, which serves as much to enhance the Lance Armstrong brand as to help its cause.  Not that these organizations don’t do some good.

There is an excellent article in Outside ^[1] magazine where the author Bill Gifford teases out where the money from Livestrong actually goes.  It turns out that very little, if any, goes to actual cancer research.  A large amount is spent on marketing and other somewhat more nebulous aspects of the cancer world such as “awareness,” as if people are not already aware of cancer, and patient support.

Which brings me to the final point of my column.

There is a huge amount of money donated to thousands of cancer organizations each year.  Countless benefits, races, and fundraisers are held each year.  I even run one myself.  While some good does come of this, often it is more about feeling good.  There needs to be more of a focus on where the money actually goes and who is really benefitting.

Returning to the myeloma world for a moment, I prefer to see that my money is used for a more focused cause, finding a cure for multiple myeloma.