My Dad the Doper

You may have heard this week that Lance Armstrong was stripped by the US Anti-Doping Association of all his Tour de France wins.

I like to think Lance didn't do it, but he probably did. Thems are just the facts, Jack. He was just a better doper than all the other dopers against whom he competed during all those races. But I'm not here to start a debate.

Back to the story.

In the Reynolds household, we call Lance "Lancey-boy" and actually followed his career pretty closely. We DVR the Tour and catch snippets of the other summer races. Dinner parties feature baskets full of Livestrong bracelets as give-aways for guests. I follow the bikers and their teams on Twitter. In the front hallway of his condo, Dad has a framed, poster-sized self-portrait with an autograph of Greg LeMond.

Anyhow, we like road bikes.

See, back in the mid-'90s, my dad started riding and racing road bikes. I don't know what overcame him to choose this particular hobby, but in terms of mid-life crises at least he didn't buy an obnoxious sports car.

Wait, yes he did.

sweet 1993 Ford Probe, Dad

But I digress. Back to road biking.

Rain or shine, snow or sleet, my dad rode literally thousands of miles a year, literally across entire states. He rode alone and with groups, for fun and for fundraising. He rode to work and to friends' homes located farther away than I really care to drive.

Come to think of it, my dad was a little like this guy:

by the '90s, Dad had shaved his beard, but otherwise this is an uncanny likeness

For several consecutive years, Dad competed in the Wisconsin State Senior Olympics. As his daughter, I was really proud of him and happy to know he was basically staying out of trouble. And he was wildly successful at his events. When it was all said and done, Dad won about ten pounds of gold medals.

(Temper your enthusiasm, though: he sometimes entered events with fewer than three participants just to ensure he'd win a medal. See the 1996 Rollerblading finalists' results.)

After dedicating so much time and effort, blood and sweat, and... frankly... cash, my dad's winnings understandably hold a great deal of sentimental value.

When Dad received the news that Lance's medals have been stripped and history rewritten, he was... not shocked so much as concerned for the welfare of his own legacy.

See, Dad has always had asthma and treated it with an inhaler: a bronchodilator -- which, in certain circles of elite athletes is considered a PERFORMANCE ENHANCING DRUG!

Are they coming for Dad's Senior Olympics medals next?!?

this is not the face of a man who wants to relinquish his medals

It's a witch hunt. Hide your winnings, Dad.