Against All Odds - Lance Armstrong

Only in a Disney movie does an athlete win against such odds. Sitting atop his bicycle, surging so far ahead that the cyclists in pursuit fall well behind and outside the angle of television camera range, Lance Armstrong, Tour de France champion and cancer survivor, stuns the imagination and inspires hope.

In the generally shorter stages of the 1999 Tour de France, Armstrong swept all three time trials, in which each cyclist races against the clock rather than other racers. He took another few stages in the 2,300-mile race and proceeded to the podium wearing the maillot jaune, the coveted yellow jersey of the tour's winner, to become the 1999 Tour de France champion. In July, he did it again, taking the 2000 Tour de France.

Essentially covering the hexagonal perimeter of France and culminating in Paris along the Champs-Elysees, Armstrong, riding with his U.S. Postal Service team, rode the 21 stages over 2,275.8 miles in less time than any other cyclist. He won only one stage (a time trial), but it was a lengthy one toward the end of the tour, following the exhausting mountain stages in which he also performed splendidly.

Taking one stage at a time and winning against all odds is what Armstrong does best.

What makes his triumphs even more amazing is that three years prior to the 1999 race, he was a huge underdog in a battle against advanced testicular cancer. Although one testicle was immediately removed, he needed more surgery to remove the cancer that had spread to his brain. It was hoped that chemotherapy would shrink the dozen or so golf ball-sized nodules of testicular cancer that had spread to both of his lungs.

This was where I drew a line of disbelief.

As a pharmacist, I'd worked for years in the field of infectious diseases at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center, the world's most renowned cancer institution. I've been privileged to meet and care for many people diagnosed with cancer, including another professional athlete, Dave Dravecky, the Major League Baseball pitcher. I've witnessed a constellation of character, dignity, triumph and tragedy. Again, however, Armstrong has me stunned.

You see, to spare his lungs' incredible athletic capacity, Armstrong's chemo regimen was tailored to avoid one particular agent, bleomycin. In its place--to try to save his life--an alternative agent was added to the massive doses (we call them "blasts") of the typical chemo regimen for advanced testicular cancer. That he survived--and is likely cured--is miraculous. To win a tour, let alone consecutive tours, epitomizes hope in any athlete. To win against cancer inspires us all.

According to his recent book, It's Not About the Bike (Putman), his largest benefactor was himself. In much the way he doggedly and meticulously prepared for these big races, Armstrong, fighting for his life, did his homework. He read up on the disease, sought the advice of those close to him and sought second and third opinions from oncology experts. Armstrong, practically dying from the disease and [reeling from the] shock of his recent diagnosis, hauled his bike-saddle-hardened butt out of his hometown and across the country to where he thought he'd find the best treatment.

Let's not quibble over what made the difference in his survival--the epidemiology, his professional conditioning, which cancer center he chose or any other variables. Armstrong listened, did his homework and, stone-cold scared, made his choice.

Obviously, it was a good one.

So what other attention did tour winner Armstrong, 28, receive? Well, in Europe, it simply could not be fathomed that an American was thoroughly thrashing the entire field. The French press insinuated that perhaps performance-enhancing drugs were added to his chemotherapy regimen. Critics suggested this would help explain his dominance throughout the '99 tour.

To think of the absurdity of that statement! If that technology were discovered, wouldn't it be made available to the public? Even from a purely capitalistic standpoint, wouldn't these fools think that perhaps even a tiny dose of these alleged "performance enhancers" could be added to the chemotherapy of thousands of cancer victims? Not so much to win the Tour de France, you understand, just enough so they could scrape themselves out of bed.

Like most unfortunate souls having to undergo chemotherapy, Armstrong suffered, retched and many times couldn't prop his head up, let alone get himself out of bed. He acknowledges that at his side in battle were a new girlfriend (now his wife, Kristin), his mother and close friends. Those days are growing distant. However, he profoundly points out that, in many ways, surviving cancer is tougher than surviving the treatment regimens.

An athlete true to his fervor for battle, Armstrong was deeply involved in waging war against cancer and surviving chemotherapy. Now, the battle is over, he has a new son, and realistically, he can do nothing more than wait. The longer Armstrong is cancer-free, the better his prognosis. As days pass, he says he is growing less fixed upon whether the cancer will come back.

And so after his family, he turned some of his attention yet again to bicycle racing. In return, the latest attention Armstrong has received is deserved, unrelenting admiration. A second consecutive tour victory has seemingly silenced the doubt-mongers. Many of the sport's best cyclists are proclaiming Armstrong a legend. I believe it. Those with cancer know it, as do those fighting the good fight--against anything.

Once, while I was examining a terminally ill woman, she grabbed my lab coat--with a grip much, much stronger than I'd thought she could muster--and instructed me to live my life, "every delicious second of it."

I will never forget her. I try to remember her words every day.

(Originally "Enjoy `every delicious second' of your life," reprinted by permission from the September 16, 2000 Tampa Tribune.)

Gerard R. Barber, R.P.h, M.P.H., is a former clinical epidemiologist and researcher at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. He currently resides in Valrico, Florida.

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COPYRIGHT 2001 Gale Group