Proposed title of a forthcoming book from Armstrong: “It’s Not About My Red Blood Cell Count (Either).”
Then what the hell was it about?
Nevermind. No one will believe you anyway.
…
I have a been a bicycle enthusiast from the time the training wheels came off my Schwinn Stingray. It was on 84th street, I was a young boy. I briefly turned to see my father far down the sidewalk, no longer running behind me holding the sissy bar to keep me balanced. I was riding, on two wheels, all by myself! Never again has a single experience reified the concept of freedom for me like that day on my bike.
It sickens me in a way to see this house of lies come crashing down on Armstrong, someone who had almost single handedly resurrected interest in cycling in America in the early part of this century. And now this betrayal. Pathetic.
A little contrition might have been nice, not that I expected it.