Schadenfreudian Slip

In evidence for an old post. USADA's report on Lance Armstrong was released to the public today: http://cyclinginvestigation.usada.org/

Canada's Michael Berry admits to doping under the Lance Regime and Cycling Records are for ever changed. Will what replaces it be better or worse remains to be seen

Everybody loves a good downfall. It’s a very ugly part of our nature which most of us would like to deny, but the fact that there are more “reality” TV shows and gossip column, blogs, etc than sitcoms suggests it is our new favourite past time. Well, not that new, mythology is filled with stories of the mighty and oh how low they fall.

I am not proud to confess that I share this very problematic characteristic, but for YEARS I have been rooting for the plunge of America’s favourite cyclist, Mr. Lance Armstrong.  I cannot even tell you how or why my dislike for him was born, only that I devoted much time to it. I have done more research about him than I have the riders I adore. I have been waiting, wishing, dreaming of the day he got caught. Now there is an FDA probe into his career and I find myself doing a reversal of hope.

No, I am not becoming a Lance lover, by any means, but I must come to terms with the fact that if I were to hate every boisterous, successful person who would do anything to guarantee their own security, I’d have to turn to the hermetic life. 

My flip-flop is not based on ethics or humanity, just a hard look at my own make up. I still can’t reconcile why it is I so intensely disliked this man I had never met. After all, two of my favourite cyclists of all time have been caught doping.  Look at any person great at anything and you will see someone with intense focus, drive, introspection and commitment to their craft – in short, a very selfish person. Did I hate Lance because I couldn’t be him, did I hate him because I saw some of myself in him? Or did I just need a scapegoat for pent up aggression? Whatever the reason, I know that his downfall will not be good for the sport I love so much, it will not be good for cancer research or the hope of cancer patients and it will do nothing to further the psyche of humanity.

Maybe, just maybe, instead of tearing down false idols, we should stop turning mere mortals into them. Who knows, without all the adoration, scrutiny and pressure, they may grow into the kind of person we would all want to become.

The Long Walk Home

For those who haven't guessed already, I'm a single woman (not a bad thing) trying to get along in a "you must couple" world. I've been through bad break up to a bad relationship and the whole experience has left me questioning the nature of relationships, at least what they have become and what they have failed to evolve to. I'm not going to rant about the modern drama of coupling (at the moment), just one night in the life of the dating spectrum.

Since my break up, and the many terrible revelations about my ex that have resulted from it, people have felt a need to "fix me up" (ironic because I consider him to be the one who was broken and thus requires fixing). After some gentle prodding from a friend I agreed to go out with a mutual acquaintance. I saw this as more of a possible developing friendship than anything akin to finding a life partner (whatever that actually means) as he too had been through some hard relationship times. Let's face it, this was more like a support group. Coffee meet up was fine, and discovering hunger led to grabbing a bite, no big deal. The invitation to go for a drink caught me during a particularly rough week and thus a weak point so I agreed despite the inner voice warning me that he might be looking for that ever elusive "soul-mate". Well, like our coffee led to dinner, his "drink" led to about, oh, six, or eight in a short span. By about 11:30, with conversation exhausted, I pointedly asked how he intended on getting home as he was obviously too drunk to drive. He mumbled something about calling a service that would drive him and his car home and asked about me. "I guess I'm taking the bus and then walking the rest of the way", I responded. Obviously his alcohol addled brain missed my tone entirely because he said "ok, well thanks for coming." That was it, not even an offer to walk me to the bus stop. So, a wave in the parking lot and I was left to find my way home, alone, closing on midnight. Yes, my friends, men have always been known to go staggering lengths to impress me!

To the well meaning friends who want to fix me up, I love you and I am so pleased to have such caring people in my life who want me to be happy. If you truly want me to be happy, just fix me up with a good bicycle mechanic who will keep my two rides rolling fine all summer and leave my soul blissfully mate-free