star rose sharply. Not only did he win the million, he also won his first stage of the Tour de France. In August, at twenty-one, he became the second youngest world road racing champion ever. With Motorola planning to leave cycling, Armstrong’s brilliant season gave his team reason to believe it would gain a new sponsor, probably one with much deeper pockets.
All of a sudden cycling mattered. Reporters from around the world descended upon Austin. ABC News interviewed Armstrong and his mother, calling him a “boy wonder” and playing up Linda Armstrong’s role as a teenage mom.
“Well, being young and pregnant, I was scared,” she said.
Lance said: “We had to overcome a lot of obstacles and a lot of resistance in our lives. And I mean, all these people, they counted her out, counted me out.”
Newspaper stories said he had never met his father and that Linda’s second marriage ended after ten years. Those lies somehow made Armstrong’s story even more attractive to the media.
“Lance is just what our country needs to get excited about cycling,” the USA Cycling marketer, Steve Penny, said in one news report. “If someone is looking for a hero to back, Lance fits the mold.”
Team manager Ochowicz said he was ecstatic about Armstrong’s $1 million victory. “It’s a great day for U.S. cycling.” By year’s end, Armstrong and the cycling team were so good that Motorola signed on for another year. The team did not have to fold after all. Armstrong had a new name for Penny: “Dime.”
Back in Austin, Armstrong paid $70,000 for a new sports car, a black Acura NSX. He then asked Neal to build a garage at the apartment complex. Neal resisted, but only for a moment. For about $50,000, he built the garage. Whatever Armstrong asked, it seemed, J.T. Neal was there to say yes.
At Christmas that year, Armstrong thanked him with several gifts. One was an autographed national champion’s rainbow jersey. In black marker, he wrote, “J.T. I’m very fortunate that our paths have crossed. You’re truly my righthand man! Not to mention my best friend! Lance Armstrong.”
He gave Neal a Rolex watch inscribed with the words “To J.T. From LANCE ARMSTRONG.” Neal accepted the watch as a symbol of Armstrong’s gratitude, even his love. For a number of years, Neal wore it with pride—until the day came that he decided to never put it on his wrist again.
CHAPTER 4
I n 1992, someone opening the Motorola team’s medicine cabinet would have come across the usual items—Band-Aids, diarrhea medicine and antiseptics for “road rash”—as well as the banned stuff, like cortisone and testosterone alongside household Tylenol. Most riders didn’t consider them to be real doping products. Using those drugs just meant the riders were minding their health in a grueling sport.
Cortisone, which could be injected or swallowed, reduces muscle soreness and is an anti-inflammatory for stiff, aching joints. It remains a staple for cyclists because it alleviates leg pain. Riders liken it to taking an aspirin if you have a headache, and many team doctors write bogus prescriptions for the drug.
Testosterone is a steroid, but isn’t used to help riders bulk up with muscle. Rather, it allows them to recover more efficiently from a workout, so they can rise the next day and train just as hard. Riders treat the drug the way they do getting a massage or staying hydrated.
Those drugs were common in the European peloton . Everyone serious about the Tour looked for an edge, whether it was steroids or injectable vitamins like B12, B complex or folic acid.
Performance-enhancing drug use is bound with the history of cycling, especially the Tour de France, a three-week, 2,000-plus-mile race. The event, held every July, is almost impossibly hard, and has been that way since its debut in 1903.
Riders have always found ways to make the race easier. In 1904, cyclists left their bikes and hitched rides in cars, trains or buses to cut miles
Natasha Tanner, Ali Piedmont