"TUCK AND GO": With one more Tour to ride, the soon-to-be-retired cyclist looks forward to "a whole bunch of other stuff I want to do." (Cliff Watts)
HE'S GONE
If you've never heard Lance speak with a real Texas twang, rest assured that he can do a convincing cowboy. John Bradley and I were leaving his ranch at dusk after the February interview, threading through a labyrinth of twisting country roads back to the highway, when a big pickup truck roared in from behind, then pulled alongside. At the wheel, a guy who may or may not have been Lance Armstrong bawled out, "You boys ain't from around here, are ya?"
When you spend time with the world's greatest athlete as he heads toward his final reckoning with history, the regular-guyness is striking but deceptive. Lance's steely self-control and drive may take him even further beyond the reach of any future rival for Tour de France domination, but he's also a gambler who knows how lucky he's beenwin or lose. And nothing can be taken for granted when you're trying to win the Tour, even if you've done it six times.
Later, during our April conversation, Lance made it very clear that the desire is still there.
Are you enjoying yourself? Is it sweeter because you know this is it?
Oh, yeah, man. You're just on top of the gear and you're sweatin' your ass off. There's nobody on the road; the occasional car passes. It was funny: Today we had people hanging out of the car, like getting aggro. We had this guy on a bike coming the other way, and I thought he was going to jump off his bike and throw it on the ground. It was unbelievable. He was all pumped up. Pumping his fists. It was like he had just won Flanders or something. He was looking over at me, conveying this energy that was just killer. Man, I hit the next canyon and I just tore the pavement off.