It was less than a month after his 25th birthday. He was diagnosed with testicular cancer on Oct. The story is simple: Lance Armstrong should be dead. How can he stop now, with so many eyes watching? Who could let them down? They each have a foot on the pedals, each one who sent him a photograph or a letter, each one who knows how it feels to be on the wrong end of the odds. They are part of the same community - victims and survivors, the sick and the cured. Old people, wearing drawn looks of fatigue and nausea, stare at him like expectant sages. Kids challenge with imploring eyes, their skin lined with the dishwater-brown scars of chemotherapy. Bald children smile back at him through a pain only he and they understand. A new face flashes, and another, faster and faster, a kaleidoscopic slide show whirling through his brain. Maybe they arrive when the stars of exhaustion creep into the periphery of his vision. THE FACES APPEAR to Lance Armstrong when he needs them most. This story appeared in ESPN The Magazine's Apissue. You have reached a degraded version of because you're using an unsupported version of Internet Explorer.įor a complete experience, please upgrade or use a supported browser
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