GREG LEMOND STILL LIVES

Some people dismiss Greg Lemond as a bitter, green-eyed, bile spewing, whining crybaby who has devolved into a pitiful trainwreck. Whew! Just because he seems on a never-ending vendetta against "nutritional supplements" that Greg thinks ALL the professional cyclists ingest. Especially His Holiness Lance Armstrong! Well, Pansy has THIS to say about THAT:

MY personal experience with Greg Lemond was very pleasant--especially since I was not forced to go into a Witness Protection Program of some sort because by the Grace of God we were all smiled upon that day and a genuine tragedy was averted: Mr. Pansy and I really almost killed Greg in a head-on collision on Monitor Pass (Sierra Nevada mountains near Lake Tahoe) in the Summer of 1990 with our Chevrolet 4WD 1/2 ton truck. Chevy Rules!

We were going uphill, scouting out the bike ride portion of the World's Toughest Triathlon (held at Lake Tahoe). On a somewhat blind curve, our truck tires were on one of the double yellow lines on the road and suddenly there was Greg--entirely on both of the double yellow lines on the road, with his riding partner to Greg's right. I still believe we could have "made the spare" and gotten them both since the angle was pretty good.

Anyway, we all veered in the appropriate defensive/evasive directions and as Greg went by the driver's window (inches from the mirror on the door) Mr. Pansy and I both screamed simultaneously (waking the sleeping children) "That was Greg Lemond!" We knew it was him because he was THAT close to us and had no helmet or sunglasses on so he was like a real live Bicycling magazine coverboy.

However, we were on a mission so we dutifully continued our route scouting. Then we turned around and drove "quickly" down the hill to see where Greg might be. We found him and his buddy resting in Markleeville--sitting on the hood of the chase car. A top of the line with all the bells and whistles Mercedes Benz, thankyouverymuch. With a soon to be degraded paint job from their salty, sweaty, nasty wet asses!

Before I could unbuckle the children, Mr. Pansy (who is SOOOO outgoing that I have always sarcastically called him "Chatty Cathy") has already leaped out of the truck, has shook Greg's hand, and they are chit chatting like longtime friends by the time I straggle up with the girls. Mr. Pansy apologized for scaring Greg on Monitor Pass to which Greg said "Oh, that was you? Yeh, that was close but I was over the lines so it was really my fault." Greg and his riding partner were riding their bicycles on a training ride for the World Championships coming up in Japan.

Mr. Pansy asked him why no helmet or glasses? Greg said "We had just come over the summit and I was sweating so much I couldn't see, so I took them all off." He was thrilled we were out camping with our family, saying "I take my family everywhere with me, too." He told me I was crazy to want to do the Toughest Triathlon since he had done the bike portion a few years earlier. He signed a hat of mine and was generally a fabulous PR poster child.

He and his buddy were out for a "little ride"--a 120 mile loop from Carson City, NV, where his folks lived. They took off, waving to us as we took photos of them. I then went into the country store there to buy some of the "power training food" Greg was eating----red licorice whips. Which I still have in my scrapbook with the Lemond photos and my signed hat. The licorice I bought was actually touched by him! Woo Hoo!

Factoid: every ultra-level cyclist I have ever seen personally, including Greg, has a unique physical feature: they are very "deep chested" from front to back. I am convinced that autopsies will reveal all of them have 4 to 6 lungs encased in their huge chests. They are not wide side to side---just deep from front to back.

I also hold as true that Greg was the first cyclist to truly break through the unwritten rule of "Europeans Only" for the Tour de France. He was loved and reviled at the time and I truly feared for his physical safety. He was also very intent about being a Good Will Ambassador--for which he has never received enough credit. He lived "over there" more than any other Americans of the era, he learned the language(s), he made himself accessible to the press, he WAS betrayed by the "broken promise" of his team and Bernard Hinault, and his time trial 8-second win over VainPrettyBoyPonytail Laurent Fignon remains forever The Miracle on Wheels.

I also go along with Greg's bruised ego over not being able to achieve all he probably could have due to the gunshot accident and its aftermath healthwise. He has systemic problems due to the multitude of buckshot pellets still scattered all through his body. I am highly disappointed in his comments about Lance Armstrong and drugs. But I am a person with Many Personalities (or perhaps just someone with many voices in my head) so I love and am dismayed by Greg all at once. I forgive him because I don't have the full story, never will, etc. I hope Greg is wrong and I hope Lance was/is clean. That is all. I must go answer the phone now. It's either Greg or Lance. Maybe Jan Ullrich {drool}. They all call me constantly for advice and to ask me to run away with them. Other than THAT obvious lie, the rest of this story is true.