Widgets Magazine


A lance to my childhood

I still remember watching Lance Armstrong win his seventh straight Tour de France. It was history, insane, almost unfathomable history, that was happening right in front of me. I got the chance to watch this man do something that’s never been done before. At the time, I thought he was the greatest human in history to ever mount a bicycle.

I’m not necessarily mad that he cheated, because apparently everyone was doping at the time. Hell, I’m not even angry with the deplorable way he handled the fallout despite the fact that it was litany of lies, bullying and scare tactics.

I’m angry because he stole something from all of us. He stole something from the world. When we see a great painting or listen to a spectacular song it stays with us. It is inextricably linked to our experience. Sometimes a book or play becomes so powerful it can radically alter our lives. We can see a man win an insane race seven times and be impacted by it. These performances, these feats of humanity become a part of us.

Lance Armstrong stole that part of humanity. His decision to lie, cheat and steal those victories took something away from all of us. He gave something to the incredible corpus of humanity, something I loved and believed in, and proceeded to take it away. That’s why I’m mad at him.

About Chris Herries

Chris Herries is a sophomore majoring in Latin. His interests include rugby, crossfit, weiqi, and public service. Please shoot him an email if you have an issues with his articles.
  • beauty is truth, truth beauty

    I’m angry that for years Armstrong bullied people who were trying to tell truth, and now people are ready to forgive Armstrong while forgetting all those who suffered because of Armstrong. I’m not angry at Armstrong, though. I don’t care about him. I care that this is how the world treats rich and famous people: in the end, they get off, while all they stomped into the ground get nothing.

    As a side note, why do people care so much about being lied to about a race? Human feats take many forms. Being faster than everyone else just says, well, you’re faster than everyone else. But you’re not faster than — oh, I don’t know — a tiger, say. Or a common deer. Or lots of other things. In contrast, when people dance or plays instruments well, or make a beautiful piece of art, or write a cool computer program, they’re not trying to do things better than other people: they’re just *doing*. For the sake of it. For the beauty. That’s the kind of people we should celebrate. The greatest things humans can do — for the merit of the things themselves rather than for the merit of doing them better than others — can’t somehow be made better by cheating.

  • It’s preference, man. Some people love competition, and love to celebrate. I’m a very competitive person. Something deep inside me hates losing, but not to the point where I’m going to dope or take steroids or hurt someone. And of course we celebrate brilliant artists and programmers… we pay them a lot of money.