Peter Sagan Ignites Then Quells a Firestorm

Standout Slovak cyclist Peter Sagan had another terrific Tour de France this year, nabbing the green jersey once again for the most consistently high performing rider over three grueling weeks of racing.  But in Googling him, I stumbled on an incident at the Tour of Flanders last year.

Naughty Sagan...#rvv #sagan #player pic.twitter.com/RVY5gIrFt4
— Ronde Van Vlaanderen (@RondeVlaanderen) March 31, 2013

@RondeVlaanderen yup...that photo is not funny to female cycling fans! I found the ass grab disrespectful to the young woman!!
— Stephanie Gutowski (@hapagal) March 31, 2013

@RondeVlaanderen I totally get him, like, c'mon...he's just a young lad...he can't really do anything about it #sagan #asspinch #cheeky
— Andrea Lodder (@andrealodder) March 31, 2013

@RondeVlaanderen it is just as sexist an action as the concept of podium girls.
— Gerard Murphy (@Gerard_Murphy) March 31, 2013

In Cyclist Rising Star Peter Sagan Grabs Woman's Ass, but Who Really Cares? Laura Beck offered the following cautionary lessons:

Even if a woman's job is to wear a short dress and hand out shiny awards to men, it doesn't mean anyone has a right to anything else from her. Sagan crossed the line, a line that should be VERY clear, and his ass should be punished. In a world that wasn't the sexist worst, this shit would be handled with a team suspension and extensive training for Sagan on how to be a human being. Instead he'll probably be high-fived by a bunch of his pals for violating a woman, and th-th-that's all, folks. 

A cyclist friend of mine tweeted that while Sagan's actions are entirely ridiculous and he needs to be reprimanded, the whole culture of cycling is sexist. I think a bike is just a shitty car, but it's obvious to me that women's only involvement in the men's side of the sport shouldn't be as scantily-clad podium girls. When the only women involved are simply for sexual objectification, how can the sport's culture not support bullshit like this? As long as these men think a woman is part of their prize for winning — or even for not winning, as is the case with loser Peter Sagan — nothing will change.

23 years old at the time, Sagan was, and still is, definitely young and apparently immature.  While Beck and her cyclist friend tied an entire sport's sexism on him, unfairly so I believe, I do think Sagan needed some basic lessons on professional, respectful behavior.

In The takeaway from Peter Sagan's Tour of Flanders bum-pinching outrage, Matt Seaton echoed Beck and  put some perspective on the sport:

But perhaps the controversy lifts the lid on an issue cycling needs to look at anew: is the use of models as some kind of uncomfortable hybrid of hostess and shamelessly exploitative "eye candy" now outmoded and inappropriate to the modern sport? 

In amateur races, it's not unusual for a woman to award the trophies to winners in men's races, but she will often be a local dignitary of the host town. The clue is in the word "dignitary". So does professional cycling really need to award winners kisses from "trophy" females?

I love cycling, but I don't have a chance to watch it much, simply because it isn't on TV very much.  The yearly Tour de France is basically it, as it now has full, daily coverage from NBC Sports Network.  Interestingly, to Seaton's point, the dignitaries, usually men, stand off to the side of the podium and let two attractive ladies do the showcasing.  The winning celebration is certainly a lovely sight with these ladies.  But I agree that this little celebration is much more meaningful with the dignitaries handing out the spoils of victory and posing proudly with the victors.

Maja Leye is the young lady, age 25, whom Sagan disrespected, and she worked for the Flanders Classics Organization.  Thankfully we heard her reactions, in Podium girl Maja Leye says she fought to keep calm as Peter Sagan pinched her behind:

I felt this hand. I hadn’t seen it coming because I had my back to him. I understood quickly what had happened. I was frozen to the spot.” 

Leye admitted that she fleetingly considered slapping the Cannondale rider, but believes that had she reacted, the situation would have gone from bad to worse. 

“I really thought about it,” she revealed, adding: “I had to stay professional. If I had reacted, the incident would have escalated. There were millions of TV viewers in front of their screens.” 

She told the newspaper that her boyfriend was none too pleased when he heard what had happened. “He didn’t appreciate it,” she said. “After the race, he received loads of text messages. Luckily, he stayed calm.”

To his credit, Sagan was prompt with his apologies, in public with Leye and also on Twitter and YouTube:

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Was not my intention to disrespect women today on the podium. Just a joke, sorry if someone was disturbed about it.
— Peter Sagan (@petosagan) March 31, 2013

I sincerely apologize to Maja for what I did on the podium yesterday after the race. 

Because, it was wrong of me, and I wasn't thinking what I was doing when I was on the podium. 

I never should have done it. 

I'm so sorry and I hope that Maya and anyone else I have offended knows how sorry I am and accept my apology. 

I promise to act more respectfully in the future.

Not everyone who transgresses is so ready with an apology.  No, it does not remedy a culture of sexism, not just cycling, but more broadly in society.  But I'd like to believe that this incident and its resolution are one small step in that respect.

Joys and Blues for Tejay Van Garderen & Co.

The Time Trial brings out the sleekest man and machine

American Tejay van Garderen finished 5th after a great race, and at age 25 he shows a lot of Tour promise.

Congratulations are in order for the Stage 1 winner

Is the well-coiffed Marcel Kittel the new Mark Cavendish? He won an amazing four stages, including Paris.

Always thrilling for a Frenchman to win a stage

Frenchman Tony Gallopin did his country very proud by grabbing the maillot jaune, and Tour lead, for Bastille Day. 

The Time Trial is the Race of Truth, and there was no questioning who was the strongest

Tony Martin won 2 of an amazing 7 stages for the Germans: Marcel Kittel (4) and André Greipel (1) were winners, too. 

Riding away after a crushing shortfall at the Stage 15 line

A great but heartbreaking ride for New Zealander Jack Bauer: Just meters from the finish, the sprinters swallowed him up.

A premature but inspiring finish to the Tour

In a courageous effort, badly hurt American Andrew Talansky rode 60k entirely on his own to finish Stage 11.

Vincenzo Nibali & Co. on Paris Podium

The champion on the most prestigious spot in Paris

Even if Chris Froome, Alberto Contador, and Andy Schleck - all Tour champions - hadn't abandoned, Vincenzo Nibali would've won the Tour: He was simply that dominant, and Team Astana was masterful in support.

Congratulations to the maillot jaune

Despite the loss of big favorites, this Tour de France was easily the most exciting in the 20 years I've followed it. 

The King of the Mountains exults after Stage 17

Young Polish rider Rafal Majka was a great surprise for Tinkoff-Saxo, after losing Alberto Contador.

The top podium winners

France hadn't seen two riders on the podium in 30 years: Jean-Christophe Péraud (left) and Thibaut Pinot (right) did their country proud.

Vicarious Thrill of the Tour de France

Defending Tour champion Chris Froome is an odds-on favorite to repeat

Another Tour de France is upon us, and I will watch it.  Though not with the fervor I had had of Tours past.  In the heyday of Lance Armstrong's run (1999 - 2005), I'd watch it live, tape it, and watch many of the stages again once or twice.   More than fervor, that was fanaticism.  A lot has happened since, for the sport and for me.  Lance Armstrong had finally been busted for doping, and lost millions along with his Tour victories.  I moved to Dubai, then came back to Chicago.

Increasingly the last two years, I've become really passionate about sports.  Football, hockey and basketball are de rigueur.  But the World Cup, Wimbledon, and the Quicken Loans National, plus the Draft days for each of those major sports, have drawn me.  I have a deep desire to analyze the game and to win a consulting engagement with a team, maybe even get a job.  With that deep desire comes a more pointed eye for the game, its strategy, passion and determination to boot.  

These are what I will bring to watching the Tour.  It looks like individual cyclists vying for stage victories, but there is such complicated, thrilling team strategy at play that casual observers miss.  There is the demand and the endurance of a three-week bicycle race, across the panorama of French landscapes and the brutality of its mountains.  Cycling is the one sport I adopted over the past 20 years, even though I have hardly biked since 2010.  So part of the Tour thrill for me is the feel of the bicycle underneath me, the exertion in my legs, and the depletion of oxygen and the injection of lactic acid.  

Thank you for reading, and let me know what you think!

Ron Villejo, PhD

Inviting Over the Filipino Boys

I had hoped to do more for these Filipino boys from Wolfi's Bike Shop.  I made a good salary in Dubai, and I had funds to invest in small projects having to do with the Filipino community.  I never pulled together any working plan, but the idea was to support their entry into races.  It wasn't a priority, however, because my focus was on philanthropy, not sports or recreation.  Still I tried, and I did help them, as they helped me, too.  On their one half-day off in the week, August 17th 2007, I had them over for lunch for a load of Filipino food.    

Jebel Hafeet Ride with the Filipino Boys

It was May 9th 2008, and the Filipino Boys from Wolfi's Bike Shop and I were back in Jebel Hafeet.  This time, we were just riding, not racing.  My legs are thick and strong, and my body is stocky.  So I wasn't necessarily made for mountain climbing.  But my friendships with Julio and Janice, soon after my arrival in Dubai, back in 2006, drew me into it.  

I braved that Jebel Hafeet climb in February 2008, on my own, and did decently.  I clawed 9.5 of the 12 kilometers up to the summit, then took a break.  Unfortunately, my groin and my hamstring locked up, and I could hardly walk, let alone get back on the bike.  I didn't pay much attention to mountain climbing, however, so when were back three months later, I could ride only 3 or 4 kilometers.  In fact, if I remember correctly, I started climbing, then headed back down to warm up my legs further.  That helped only so much.

Come summer 2009, I learned to stick to the flats, and for the six months between August that year and February 2010, I was in a zone with my cycling.

Jebel Hafeet Race with the Filipino Boys

The date was January 18th 2008, and we were milling about in Al Ain, ahead of a race up Jebel Hafeet.  I befriended a group of Filipino boys, who worked at Wolfi's Bike Shop in Dubai, and together we managed to pack their six bicycles, plus them and a couple more friends, in my Nissan X-Trail.  Three of us were their "sag" support during the race.  They were skinny, they were small, and they were fast.  

I had designs on racing, too. But while I'd have awesome training sessions during the week, I'd often hit the wall during those fast and furious Friday morning rides with Wolfi and had to drag my body and bike alone back to the starting point.  But summer of 2009, though, was magical.  I somehow gained insight into how to train more effectively and prepare my body more wisely.  From August 2009 to February 2010, I was flying.  I consistently kept up with the lead group, even as they lifted the speed in the second half of the ride.    

The Filipino boys and I drifted, but they were always so kind to help take care of me, whenever they could.  For example, I had a flat on one ride, and they graciously and quickly fix it for me.

Winning the Mental Game of Cycling!

I was a Tour de France fanatic for years, and learned riding strategies from watching the men in spandex shorts, lycra jerseys, and bumble-bee helmets maneuver the race.  I read articles online from Bicycling and Velo News, and also took to heart whatever advice my pals sent my way.

But in 2009 I lifted my studies of cycling to higher level, focusing it more specifically on my training and diet and on my actual riding strategies.

I moved to Dubai in 2006, and immediately found my way into the active cycling community.  I was already pretty passionate and disciplined about the sport, and without fully knowing what I needed to know, I managed to break four personal bests within my first year of riding there.

• Mileage for the day, from 100 miles, to 160 miles:  on a long-distance, partly mountainous charity ride from Dubai to Fujairah.
• Mileage for the year, from a total of 3000 miles, to 3100 miles:  October 2006-October 2007.
• Average speed on a ride, from 20 MPH, to 21 MPH:  numerous times on our "leisurely" Friday morning rides through metropolitan streets and desert roads.
• Fastest speed reached, from 38 MPH, to 44 MPH:  a few times on a descent.    

Dubai-Fujairah charity ride for Emirates Association for the Blind (2007)

Improving my turning skills

For the longest time I was nervous cycling through turns.  In Dubai, there were many roundabouts to navigate, and desert sands often gathered around the inner curb.  I dialed down my speed going into these roundabouts, and took a wider turn through them to avoid those scattered sands.  To add to these two mistakes, I relied on my sprinting ability to close the gap, once we exited the roundabouts.  This misjudgment kept me in our double paceline for the first half of the ride, but I was bonked by the second half and often got dropped by the guys.  

The analogy I found most useful in altering my judgment and improving my turning skills was this:  Imagine I had a matchbox with a few matchsticks inside.  Every time I sprinted, I burned one of these matchsticks.  Because of my tentative riding on these turns, I must've sprinted more often than I kept track of and effectively emptied my matchbox of energy, before a tough ride was finished.  

So I consciously focused on my turning skills during our weekly training sessions, and made the following changes:

• I kept my speed up going into the roundabouts, instead of dialing it down.
• I followed our double paceline throughout the turn, instead of sliding off and wide.
• I kept myself more into a tightly-drafting position to minimize gaps in front of me, and thereby minimize any need to burn a matchstick (i.e., sprint).  

Looking through the rider in front

Yes, it's funny, but in our tight formations, we look to be literally on top of each other's ass and back wheel.  Through my rides in Chicago, I was often alone, and didn't have much experience with the sort of rides we did in Dubai.  So it was a novice mistake for me to concentrate too much on the ass and wheel in front of me.  Admittedly I was nervous about riding too closely, and crashing into the rider ahead.

To improve, I physically shifted my gaze from downward to straight ahead, more now on the back and head of that rider and also what was in front of him or her.  This was a dramatic change in strategy.  Now I could survey better what was going on in front of me, and ride accordingly.

One time, for example, I was well-ensconced in a lead pack, and we were burning rubber on the road at over 30 MPH.  At this speed I was in a hyper-concentration mode, or else I'd risk a terrible crash with a mental lapse.  I checked my mind (clear) and my body (strong), so no problem there.  

But the rider in front of me was "losing the wheel" in front of him.  He was struggling to keep up his speed.  I monitored this closely, because I was looking through him, and the second that the gap reached a certain point I quickly accelerated past him.  

It's not just a physical exertion, but a strict mental game, too.  Without precisely quantifying anything, I determined an allowable gap to form in front of him, beyond which I wouldn't have been able to close it myself, once I passed him, without burning off whatever matchsticks I had left in me.  

When he hit the threshold of that allowable gap, I passed him in a flash.  It took just a couple of seconds to do so, saying "On your right!" to alert him and sliding back into the double paceline in perfect stride.  

It was a terrific calculation, and a superb move on my part!

Winning the mental game

I altered quite a lot of my preparations for a ride, but most of it was physical rather than mental.  But these physical improvements helped me tremendously with that strict mental game.  The better I could rely on the endurance and strength of my body, the more I could concentrate on our ride and the better I could judge what strategy to deploy.    

In other words, I kept a good reserve of matchsticks in my box, and essentially avoided getting anywhere near close to "red-lining" my body with lack of oxygen or excess of lactic acid.  This kept my head cleared.

On another ride, our double paceline had long disintegrated, and we were just a bunch of scattered riders with still a long way to go.  Fortunately I managed to draft behind one guy who was tall, and going at the right fast clip, that is, one that I could keep up with.

At this speed, we were actually passing other scattered riders up, as I safely and comfortably kept myself at his wheel.             

Then, out of nowhere, another rider sprinted past us.  Before, my impulse would've been to chase after him.  I felt strong and confident, and of course I caught up to him.  But at great cost to my energy reserves.  

In the split second on this ride, however, I decided to stay on course, and kept drafting behind the tall guy.  Again, without precisely quantifying anything, I knew we were already going at high speed, and surmised that that rider who sprinted out of nowhere had to elevate his speed even higher than ours.  I quickly determined that he was not going to be able to keep that up, and undoubtedly he burned more than a few matchsticks in that strenuous effort.   

Sure enough, in another minute or two, Mr. Tall Guy and I passed up that dude!

Me, at the top of an arduous climb in Musandam, Oman (2009)

Thank you for reading, and let me know what you think!

Ron Villejo, PhD

Yes to Great Cycling Performance!

The disgraced Lance Armstrong, notwithstanding, cycling is an awesome sport, and it is the one I participate in.  My form in swimming is good, but I'm way too slow, and my shins very much disagree with running, in the same way my digestive system disagrees with milk.  Cycling, on the other hand, fits my body rather well.

It was in the mid-1990s that I took up cycling, and it coincided with my discovering the Tour de France.  It was in the waning years of Miguel Indurain's reign, among his spandex-sporting, lycra-jerseyed mates.  Le Tour is grueling:  daily racing over three weeks, covering 2000+ miles of the scenic yet brutal French landscape.  My July every year was taken up by this race, and it was through telecasts and highlights that my passion took root and my learning built up.

When I moved from Chicago to Dubai in 2006, it was a sport for which I easily found fellow enthusiasts.  A friendly but cagey German - Wolfi - owned a bike shop, and organized early Friday morning rides through metropolitan streets and outlying, desert roads.  (Our weekends in the Middle East were Friday-Saturday.)  These rides were meant to be friendly and leisurely, and it was mainly so in the first half of the ride.  In the second half, though, our double paceline often disintegrated, as guys got chippy and there were bursts of speed everywhere.

Julio, me, Desmond, Janice, Olivier, and Olivier's girlfriend (Hatta mountains, 2006)

No to mountains, yes to flats

I quickly became good friends with a couple - Julio and Janice - and some of their cycling pals, too.  They often went on separate rides on Friday morning, however, mainly for mountain riding.  This was a mistake for me.  I had bulky legs that were meant more for sprinting than climbing, so while socializing was fun,  getting dropped on climbs was not fun.

One time, I was well behind my pals on the climb down and the long ride back to our starting point.  No matter how much I was gassed on the climbs, and lactic acid burning in my legs, I somehow kept my fast-twitch muscles relatively fresh.  So I out-gunned my pals, one by one, on the flats, until there was only Julio up ahead.  I managed to get into his slipstream, and told myself, Just hang on to his wheel (i.e., draft), until I could catch my breath.  Alas, he accelerated, and didn't give me enough time to recover my energy.  I smiled, breathlessly, as he disappeared once again.

After two years, I decided to concentrate on rides with Wolfi, as these were mainly the flats.

No to distance, yes to speed

For a while I couldn't understand why I'd have superb training sessions during the week, but often struggled, and even hit the wall, on those Wolfi rides.  My first instinct was to train harder, but this didn't work.  The problem?  I trained too much and rode too far during the week.  I proudly announced one time that I had ridden about 200 kilometers, and Julio suggested in a matter of fact way that I scale down.

In Chicago, also mainly flat, I worked at long distance riding, such as a century (100 miles).  I commuted to the office on bike, once a week, over 100 miles in one day.  Once or twice more, I'd bike to a train station, take the train downtown, then reverse the order on the way home.  With the riding I did on weekends, I could nail down about 250 miles a week.

Our Wolfi rides were mainly about speed, on the other hand.  For which, as it turned out, my body was much better suited, than either long-distance or mountain climbing.  But this meant altering my training mindset and regimen altogether.  I was unwilling to scale down, at first, but in time I underwent that change:

• Saturday.  Easy recovery workout, usually on the elliptical machine, for just 30 minutes.
• Sunday.  This evening training session was the most crucial.  I managed to hitch onto a small group of fast riders, and our riding mimicked that of Friday mornings, that is, a combination of break-the-lactic-threshold and VO₂ max periods.  The distance I biked was a half to a third of what I normally did.  
• Monday.  Another recovery workout, either on the bike or in the gym.
• Tuesday.  A workout of moderate intensity and duration.  If my body still needed to recover from the Sunday session, I dialed this workout down a notch or two.  
• Wednesday and Thursday.  Rest days, mainly just T'ai Chi and stretching, plus of course mental and dietary preparations.
• Friday.  Those awesome but tough Wolfi rides.

Me, training for the Gulf for Good - Borneo Challenge (Emirates Today, 2007)

Yes to full-body weight training

Lifting weights was not a priority for me, but I know it was important to keep my upper body strong.  My lower body, I reasoned, had more than sufficient workouts from cycling.  So I dispensed with squats, leg extensions and hamstring curls, and standing dead lifts.  This was also a mistake.  So how did I alter my training?

I systematically added those lower body workouts, making sure I developed those large muscle groups: hips, buttocks, and thighs.  Such balanced workouts, coupled with my scaled down, but better-honed training rides, made a difference.

I engaged in core exercises, geared specifically for cyclists.  I used to dismissed such exercises as unnecessary, until I learned that the power I exerted on the pedals originated from the core and my core wasn't strong after all.

In addition, a few times I got feedback from my pals that my upper body position on the bike was too extended.  It took a handful of iterations, but I adjusted the handle bars closer in and also shifted my seat forwarded a couple of notches.

Yes to better diet preparations

Dubai was fabulous, because we could all ride year round.  In the winter months, the temperatures hovered in the 70s F, and while the summer was blistering hot, we avoided the peak of it by riding as early as 5:30 AM on those Fridays.  In any season, however, Dubai was often dry, and it served to expose my bad hydration habit.  This was one reason I performed poorly on those Friday rides, and it prompted me to make changes in the quantity and frequency of drinking water.  I'd drink two or three, sometimes four liters, in the office, for example.

My main focus was on complex carbohydrates, but it took a lot of studying my body and performance, and correcting and tweaking my dietary regimen, to come up with this:

One pal wondered if I was consuming enough protein.  I hadn't thought about it very much vis-a-vis cycling.  But in doing research, I realized that my typical diet was relatively low on protein for the amount of strenuous activity I was engaged in.  As an athlete I ate six, sometimes seven small meals a day.  I got into a habit, for example, of eating my meals in a bowl, as opposed to a plate.  But it was unreasonable to expect me to consume 75 grams of protein (one gram per one kilogram of weigh), so I supplemented my diet with protein drinks.

As the week progressed, I shifted to more complex carbohydrates - spaghetti, pasta or macaroni - and less protein.  On most days it was one or two protein drinks a day, but just one or none on Wednesday and Thursday.

Me, after another awesome ride (2009)

Yes to great results!

In my next article, I will detail how I altered my riding strategy.  But for now suffice it to say that these changes to my training resulted in a night-and-day difference in my performance:  From hitting the wall on a regular basis, to consistently hanging with the lead pack.

One time, for example, I was riding well ensconced in our double paceline.  The lead guys and I stayed together, even as we lifted our speed dramatically.  I remember it seeming to be very quiet, as I could hear the purr of wheel, chain and gears.  I remember having to slow down a bit, in fact, as I would've otherwise run into the rider in front of me.  I also remember feeling calm in my breath and pulse, as if we were actually riding slowly.

I was in the zone! 

Thank you for reading, and let me know what you think!

Ron Villejo, PhD

The Quandary that is Lance Armstrong

The news today is abuzz with Lance Armstrong, once again, because he has stepped down as Chairman of his Livestrong Foundation and been fired by Nike.  ESPN is tops for me, as far as awesome, intelligent, and intriguing sports news is concerned, and this is one of their reports on our man in the hot seat.

I love this Nike commercial, and still do, the irony of it notwithstanding.  "What am I on?" he repeats the often-asked question.  "I'm on my bike, busting my ass, six hours a day.  What are you on?"

His claim to infamy had been that he was the most drug-tested athlete and never failed a test.  Now there are reasons to wonder if there was illicit collusion among the testers about any positive results.  I expect that even more will come to light in the next several months. 

Yeah, he was 'on' something

In conversations with cycling friends, in the midst of his championship run on the Tour de France, I said, "Yeah, I think he's on something.  But he's so smart, so disciplined, and so well-advised by the best of minds in the sport, that he's ahead of the game."  

So, as the veritable fortress of doping that he and his mates constructed came undone, brick by brick, I was saddened but not shocked.  I already knew.  There is still more to undo, of course, but his legacy is a demolition site now.

Sports is a quandary

We marvel at what athletes do.  Our jaw drops in awe, our head shakes in disbelief, and our voice is lost in the thick air of whoops, high-fives, and beer.

Truth be told, 99.9% of us cannot do what they can do.  But perhaps in a fit of vicarious play, when we watch them, we can.  Even if the inspiration lifts our athletic skills just a fraction closer to theirs, we are grateful.  This is why I am hooked on sports.

But for those 0.1% athletes, their world is pure, unadulterated reality.  Past that marveling, I think it's inhuman to subject themselves to such strain and pain.  No body or mind should be subjected to it.  The Tour de France, for example, is 2100 miles of hell, over a 3-week period.  Yes, hundreds of athletes endure this grueling race, year after year, and they recover and they're just fine.

Not to condone the use of illicit performance-enhancing drugs (PEDs), I simply encourage us to try to understand why, for goodness sake, athletes may, and do, in fact resort to them.  As a weekend cyclist, I have a feel for that strain and pain.  I resort to protein powder, spaghetti carbo-load, and hydration fluids, when I train and cycle, but consume absolutely no drugs.  I am wasted after a fast-and-furious 50-mile 'recreational' ride with the guys, under the 110-degree Dubai sun.  I know how my body and mind feel, and all I can do afterward is what Lance did in the Nike commercial:  sleep.

Then, in preparation for the next ride, I review the last ride in my mind and tweak my training regimen accordingly.  I also wonder what else I can consume to raise my performance.   

Moreover, aside from the personal compulsion to excel, athletes also face peer and commercial pressures to perform at such a high level, as to be, once again, downright inhuman.  There's no question about the fact that they made a choice to subject themselves to such pressure.  But once in the sea of these choices, each of them can go only so far to keep their heads above water and endure it.  The cliche is true:  They're only human, after all. 

Yeah, we can get inspired by no-limits, nothing-is-impossible commercials on YouTube and posts on Facebook. But as a matter of brutal fact, all of us have far many more limits than capabilities. Far more things we cannot do than things we can. So those who dope are simply trying, in this complex, strenuous arena of sports, to withstand, survive, and succeed.

Lance is a dilemma

Lance remains a standout athlete to me. They can strip him of his Tour de France mantles, they can grab million-dollar sponsorships off his hands, and they can vilify him in judgmental media circles. He is still a remarkable guy to me.

Why and how?

We do not know exactly how many dopers there were in the field of riders, in his seven-year championship run, but we can safely assume there were many indeed.  So, as far as doping is concerned, it was probably a level playing field.

The fact, then, that Lance rose head-and-shoulders above all of them cannot be accounted for by PEDs.  No, I'd say it was his brilliant strategic skills on the bike.  His unmatched conditioning, discipline, and athleticism.  The masterful direction of Johan Bruyneel.  The training stewardship of Chris Carmichael.  No doubt, all of these were competitive differentiators.  I bet he could've won those championships without PEDs.  The dude was that great on the bike!

It may be said that every dog has its day.  I mean, the critics who must now feel justified in their hard-fought doping accusations, especially those in the French media, who apparently disliked Lance with a passion.  Let him drown completely in his own sea of lies and denials, I hear them shout, wholly discredited and dismissed.

But wait a minute, I say.  Can we not separate the good from the bad, and still admire the guy for surviving cancer, raising half-a-billion dollars to eradicate it, and excelling in one of the most grueling sports around?

I can, and encourage all of us to do the same.

The dilemma in all honesty, however, is that some of us cannot - and will not, even if we can - separate the good from the bad.  He's all bad, good riddance, amen, and thank you, ma'am!

Think:  Joe Paterno.  The abuse that several victims had to endure requires recompense and punishment, of course, as a response to those perpetrators and accomplices, Joe included.  But if this abuse weren't tragic enough, the NCAA had to go nuclear with its own set of punishments on Penn State University and its football program.  Apparently, the hundreds of (innocent) athletes, coaches, students, faculty and administrators were all bad, too, for being at PSU.  No one can convince me that that isn't a travesty in itself!                    

That said, Joe's phenomenal legacy on the football field is obviously now a tarnished set of trophies on the mantlepiece.  But let them take away his statue and categorically vilify the dead man, those trophies still stand strong and proud, in my eyes.  Joe remains among the heralded few in college sports, who sustained decades of success.  Perhaps he is more the real idol now, for his very flaws and mistakes, amidst his longtime accomplishments.      

Same with Lance.  Again, I am saddened by his doping but I still admire, and am inspired by, all the good he did, on and off the bike.

Thank you for reading, and let me know what you think!

Ron Villejo, PhD