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Outside magazine, April 1998

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Tour de Revenge (cont.)


	(Frank W. Ockenfels)

Nineteen ninety-six was to have been Armstrong's year. In April he placed second in the prestigious Leige-Bastogne-Leige (one of six second-place finishes that spring) and then became the first American ever to win a traditional spring classic, in the Fleche Wallone. He returned to the States in May to win his second consecutive Tour DuPont 1,225 miles over 12 days, during which he was heralded by front-page headlines and bikini-clad teens with his name scrawled on their bellies by the biggest margin in the race's history. Heading into the summer on the verge of cracking the top-five rankings for the first time, he was ebullient, but drained. "Instead of the energy-packed, fist pumping celebration that has been his trademark in such breakthrough victories," VeloNews writer John Rezell noted at the Tour DuPont finish line, Armstrong's "eyes were bloodshot. His face beet-red...he looked wasted."

Armstrong went home to rest in Austin, where construction had just been completed on his new $1 million house, a 5,000-square-foot palm-shaded Mediterranean-style palazzo in a gated community on Lake Austin. Armstrong, who generally spent 250 days a year in

"Imagine the PR hit [Bristol Meyers-Squibb] could get from having Lance advertise their products," says Stapleton. "It's an incredible story: the guy beat cancer."

Europe, didn't remain long. In June he entered the Tour de France, by most measures the most taxing endurance event in all of sport: more than 2,000 miles, 20 days, 6,500-foot climbs. Armstrong had never fully distinguished himself in the Tour; though he had been a stage winner twice, he had finished the race only once in four starts, coming in a distant 36th. Nor was he truly focused on it now, having decided to concentrate his energies on the upcoming Olympics in Atlanta, where for the first time professional riders would be allowed to compete. Not surprisingly, he fared poorly in France. After struggling through the first five stages, and after pedaling miserably through a day of lashing rains, he came down with the flu and was forced to withdraw. "I couldn't breathe," he explained to reporters at the time. "I had no power. I'm bummed. But if I'm sick, I'm sick, and I have to stop."

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Armstrong's decision to focus on Atlanta, while heretical within cycling, made perfect sense for a top American rider. In France, 40 million people watch the Tour de France on TV. Yet even if Armstrong had won there, his TV time in America would have been negligible. The Olympics, on the other hand, had become the one moment when athletes in sports with little TV exposure could hope to burst onto the nation's cultural radar. By early July, the Wall Street Journal was handicapping which American athletes were likeliest to rake in big endorsement contracts after the Games, and Armstrong was high on the list.

"We had Lance positioned to move up from a cycling-specific athlete to a corporate spokesman, celebrity-model type," explains Bill Stapleton, Armstrong's agent. An Olympic swimmer before becoming a trial lawyer and then an agent, Stapleton is Armstrong's alter ego. Suave, handsome, a man of unflagging enthusiasm, Stapleton markets Armstrong so breathlessly that Armstrong hardly needs to market himself. "I felt," Stapleton proudly recalls, "like the evolution of the Lance Armstrong brand was really starting to take shape."

Atlanta was another disappointment. Though Armstrong performed credibly 12th in the road race and sixth in the time trials he didn't win a gold medal, the sine qua non of Olympic athletes seeking to raise their visibility. His promising season did, however, yield positive results. His American team, Motorola, disbanded after the 1996 season, and when Stapleton shopped Armstrong's services around for the 1997 season, he was rewarded with a two-year, $2.5 million contract to ride for Cofidis, a premier European team that would sharply improve his chances of winning in the future.

Armstrong's health had always been extraordinary, the result of relentless conditioning and exceptional physiology. "He's an anatomical freak," gushes Stapleton. "His VO2 max, his blood counts. He's able to handle tremendous physical extremes." But now, back in Austin for the fall, he felt achy and depleted. One of his testicles, which had always been larger than the other, was sore. He went out one night with friends to a Jimmy Buffet concert and came home with blurred vision and a crushing headache. A few days later he coughed up blood.

Finally, on October 2, he went to an Austin urologist, who performed a physical and a chest X ray. The doctor told him he had choriocarcinoma, the fastest-spreading form of testicular cancer. Meanwhile, the chest X ray revealed 11 masses in Armstrong's lungs. Armstrong listened incredulously. "I was prepared to die," he remembers. On the way home he called Stapleton on his car phone. "I've got testicular cancer," he reported grimly. "I'm never gonna ride again."

Armstrong had surgery the next day to remove his cancerous testicle. Meanwhile Stapleton scrambled hard. Armstrong was between employers Motorola and Cofidis. He had secured health insurance and disability insurance through Cofidis, but the agreements hadn't been tested. Also, there was Armstrong's career to consider. Stapleton called the team's directeur sportif, who assured him, he says, that the company would stand behind Armstrong "100 percent."

After six days of keeping the lid on, Armstrong held a press conference in Austin in which he disclosed his illness, the removal of his testicle, the fact that he had begun a 12-week course of chemotherapy, and the fact that his cancer had "spread into my abdomen." His carefully scripted remarks avoided any mention of his lungs.

After thanking all of his sponsors, especially Motorola and Cofidis, Armstrong concluded with several vows. "For now," he said, "I must focus on my treatment. However, I want you all to know that I intend to beat this disease, and further, I intend to ride again as a professional cyclist.

"I also intend," he added, "to be an avid spokesperson for cancer research and awareness, particularly testicular cancer, once I have beaten the disease. Had I been more aware of my symptoms, I believe I would have seen a doctor before my condition advanced to this stage. I want to take this opportunity to help others who might someday suffer from the same circumstances I face today."

But then there was more bad news. Armstrong's cancer was too advanced to be treated locally, so he went to the M. D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, where doctors ordered an MRI of his brain. As they feared, the test showed two malignancies. The next day Armstrong flew with his mother to Indianapolis, where they met with a team of doctors at IU. "Yes, your situation is bad," the physicians told him, "but we've seen worse."

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