“Fuck you, fucker!” the young man yelled out his driver-side window — at me — as he passed going the opposite direction in his silver Dodge Durango. With a bike rack on it.

I stopped pedaling and looked over in disbelief. What? Why?

These were not the ravings of a cycling bigot, you know, a driver who feels a cyclist has no business on the road, getting in the way, costing said bigot precious seconds on his/her drive to somewhere very, very important. I wasn’t even going the same direction as this guy.

And it wasn’t someone I knew, or wronged in the past. I’d never seen this young man or his truck before in my life.

So why was he, apparently a cyclist himself, screaming obscenities at me?

Livestrong can be a tarsnake for those who engage in Lance Armstrong’s brand and legacy

Then it occurred to me. I was wearing my LiveStrong kit. And LiveStrong is connected, obviously, with a one Mr. Lance Armstrong. Seven time champion of the Tour de France. Cancer survivor. And creator of the LiveStrong charity, a multi-million dollar organization that helps those battling cancer, their families, and cancer survivors. What could be wrong with supporting Lance or LiveStrong, one might ask?

Well, plenty. But only to certain cyclists and bike racing fans.

If you are a cyclist, skip this middle part. It’s backfill. And you already know it. More than likely, already have your opinions about it, too. But for everyone else, here’s the deal in a nutshell: During the years Lance raced and won on the professional, elite level, doping was rampant in the cycling ranks. Testosterone, steroids, EPO, blood-doping, amphetamines were (and some say, still are) a witches brew of pharmo-chemicals used by riders themselves, and sometimes, administered to them by cycling team doctors and trainers. Many riders Lance competed against have been caught doping and stripped of wins and given suspensions. However, Lance maintains he never doped. Not ever. And makes the claim that he’s the most-tested athlete in the world and has never tested positive. However, many people associated with the sport suspect he did dope. He did cheat. He just hasn’t been caught (or if he was caught, he managed to find a way to cover it up). How could Lance beat the best competitors in the world — who were doping — while he was clean? Sometimes soundly? It’s possible, but some argue, not very likely.

Today, Lance (along with his former team officials and doctors) is being accused by the American Anti-Doping Agency (USADA) of having run a doping conspiracy during his historic Tour de France career. USADA is seeking to bring a case against Lance which they say proves that not only was he doping, but was also helping others to cheat as well. As part of their case, USADA is said to have testimony of Lance’s former teammates who have confessed they doped — right alongside Lance. If USADA is successful in bringing their case against Lance in an arbitration hearing, and their findings are upheld, Lance could be stripped of all his Tour de France titles and face a life suspension from the sport.

The case is tied up in the U.S. District Court in Texas as you read this. Lance has filed suit saying USADA has no right to accuse him or try him. There have been charges he’s brought his considerable wealth and influence to bear on members of congress and other cycling governing bodies (specifically the UCI, or the Swiss-based International Cycling Union) to intervene on his behalf. We await the judge’s ruling to see if Lance’s argument to throw USADA’s case out is upheld, or if the judge rules USADA does indeed have the authority to bring this case against Lance.

Of course, this whole mess is quite legalistic and complicated. If you want the details, a quick Google search will bring you thousands of hits on this story. What’s important to note is this case brings to the forefront cycling’s ugly history. It’s no secret that the sport of cycling has been plagued by rumors and reports of dirty riders and rampant cheating for years. Decades, even. And that by charging Lance Armstrong, the most famous cyclist in America (and some would argue, the world), USADA is bringing to a climax the narrative of cheating in cycling. It would be akin to perhaps the NBA taking Michael Jordon to court. It’s that big. That decisive. And divisive.

“Fuck you, fucker!”

So divisive, the mere sight of a fellow cyclist wearing LiveStrong kit can illicit frothing anger. At a stranger. On a bike. Just getting in a few miles after work.

So where do I stand on the Lance case, you’re probably asking by now?

What I want to explain to the driver of the silver Durango, and anyone who makes a snide remark about (or casts a crusty glance at) the yellow LiveStrong wristband I always wear: It’s not about Lance. Nor is it for him. At least, not for me.

I don’t know Lance. I don’t know if he cheated. I don’t know if he’s a cool guy and would be fun to hang out with, or if he is a bully flanked by a peloton of bodyguards (as some critics charge). It doesn’t really matter because I don’t wear my LiveStrong bracelet for Lance.

I wear it for my stepdad, who died of lymphoma.

I wear it for my wife’s stepdad, who died of cancer.

I wear it for a dear friend of my stepdaughter, who died far too young of leukemia.

I wear it for my wife’s friend from high school, who is in hospice, still full of life, but in the final stages of her fight against cancer.

I wear it for Chris Cudworth and his wife, as she has bravely fought ovarian cancer for seven years, and continues to do so today.

I wear it to remind myself to say a prayer for all these fighters. The ones who are still with us, and the ones who have passed.

It’s easy to get caught up in the tarsnake of anger and hatred about Lance, LiveStrong and cheating in cycling. To make judgments of others based on their opinions of these things, or their support of LiveStrong. But before you let your wheel get caught and drug down by the sight of a LiveStrong wristband, remember this: There’s probably a very personal story or two behind that bracelet. It may represent someone dearly loved. So say a prayer instead. For justice. For strength. For healing and peace. For those fighting cancer, for those who have lost loved ones due to cancer, and for the sport itself.

–Monte W