By Monte Wehrkamp

I lied. I’m a liar.

I cheated. I skirted rules for my own advantage.

I manipulated. I behaved in ways to get my own way.

I take no pride in these actions and behaviors. In fact, every time I think of various situations where I lied, cheated, and manipulated, I’m ashamed and regretful.

But I’ve also been generous. Helpful. Supportive. Cheerful. Law abiding.

When I am reminded of the times I’ve been a positive influence on my family, friends and community, I am proud and a joyful.

See, this is what being human looks like. This is what I look like. You look like. All of us. Even our heroes. Especially our heroes.

I’m going to go back and remind myself — and this blog’s readers (hi Mom) — of what I said a couple months ago regarding the tarsnake of the yellow LiveStrong wrist band.

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

1. I don’t personally know Lance. I’ve never met him. What I know of him, I learned from watching him race, and reading his books and reports in the sporting press.

2. I don’t personally know if he cheated or rode clean. Sure, there have been rumors over the years. Positive tests of riders Lance raced against. But I’m just a Category 15 rider with virtually zero inside knowledge of pro cycling in general, and Lance specifically.

3. I don’t wear a yellow wristband for Lance. I wear it for those I know who have, and have had cancer. Those that are sick, healed, and those who have died from this disease. They are (and were) friends and family members.

A lot’s transpired regarding Lance since I originally wrote those words. And a lot of people — and I’m talking tens of thousands — are pounding out their own versions of “F*** You, F*****,” on cycling, sports, and news comment sections and opinion forums all over the internet. Just like how the guy in the gray Durango shouted at me as I rode along in my black and yellow LiveStrong jersey earlier this summer.

There’s been a lot of piling on. A feeding frenzy of indignation, anger and disgust.

But I want to step back a minute. To take a breath now that the USADA report has been read. As well as stories of sponsors dropping Lance, and his stepping down as chairman of LiveStrong. And Tyler Hamilton’s haunting book about professional cycling. What are we left with?

A human being.

We have the cycling champion who broke the rules to get to, and stay on top of, his sport.

And…

We have the cancer patients’ champion who created a charity which helps match patient needs with services; everything from caregivers, support systems, insurance providers, to financial assistance.

We have a man who used his power, influence and wealth to manipulate and intimidate those within his sport to also use performance enhancing drugs, and to silence others who sought to reveal the use of drugs in cycling.

And…

We have a man who used his power, influence and wealth to influence lawmakers, other wealthy individuals, and multinational corporations to join his cause to assist cancer patients and their families.

With Lance, we’re finding an all too similar reflection of our own selves. That like me, he lied. Like me, he cheated. Like me, he manipulated others. Like you, too.

Because the revelations are all so very human, they cut to our own essence. Of our own duality. Of our own shortcomings. So our first reaction is to yell or type, “F*** You, F*****!”

Maybe who we’re really yelling at (or writing to) is ourselves. Perhaps what we’re finally learning is what we’ve always know about Lance — and ourselves — and it’s a pretty tough pill to swallow (see what I did there).

I’m a liar. I’m a cheater. I’m a manipulator. We all are.

But I’m also a helper, holder, supporter, and cheerleader, too. We all are.

We’re human. Lance is human.

So, back to the tarsnake of the yellow wristband. It still serves to remind me of all the people who are battling cancer. But now it’s more than that. For just as it’s hard to get up each day and struggle against this horrible disease, so too is it hard to face our own personal failings. The yellow wristband has also a become, for me, a symbol of my own human nature. Our human nature. Lance’s, too.

In the end, we can only hope to do what’s spiritually and emotionally healthy: to accept, to forgive, to move forward. Sometimes it’s difficult. No, lots of times, it’s difficult. But it’s necessary, and the only way out of the tarsnakes of depression, anger, denial, and resentment.

That’s a whole lot of complex meaning tied up in one yellow wristband, I know. So much easier to be angry and type and shout at Lance and each other. All I’m asking is we stop, think really hard about what it is we’re so mad about and so disappointed in. Then realize, it’s really ourselves and our human nature. So I’m putting on the wristband and reminding myself each day is a series of choices. Maybe yours and mine aren’t lived out on an international stage like Lance’s, but they matter to the people in our lives. And ourselves.