I'm just going to put this out there.
Lance Armstrong.
I feel.....actually, I don't know what I feel. I don't feel sorry for him. It's not sympathy. I think maybe.....I don't know. Is it compassion? I honestly don't know what it is, but I feel uneasy, uncomfortable about the scorn and the wrath that many are directing at him.
Yes, the man cheated. On a grand scale. He repeatedly denied it too. He attacked those who accused him of cheating. He took them to court. The damage he did. He did everything he could to keep living the lie. He took people down. Brutally. And then, when he couldn't deny it any longer, he was done. A cornered rat. And he folded. Armstrong admitted he'd cheated and then he lost everything.
The seven Tour de France titles. Gone. Millions of dollars in lost income. His relationship went belly up. The impact on his school-aged children would have been huge. And yes, all self-inflicted. He brought it on himself. And now, wherever he goes, for the rest of his life, he carries that burden of shame. He's a cheater. A drug cheat. His sporting achievements, once glorious, now count for nothing. As far as screwing up his life, Armstrong took it to the next level and his downfall has been epic.