Not My Hero

Judging from all those rubbery yellow Livestrong bracelets I see, Lance Armstrong is still North America's reigning hero. Everyone's favourite cancer survivor has won 7 Tour de France races, not that I've paid much mind: Cycle races are bloody boring to watch. And he's quadruply famous for dating Sheryl Crow, something else that was completely under my radar. I was puzzled to learn of this relationship, because the last time I saw Armstrong he was on some dopy TV commercial with a wife and a houseful of kids, telling us how happy he was. We all know that he had the foresight to save some of his sperm before undergoing chemotherapy, and that he married shortly after the chemo stopped. I didn't know anything more than that.
Here's the deal: Armstrong married his wife Kristin in 1998, and their son Luke was born the following year. In November 2003, the Armstrongs had twin girls. Just last year, the couple divorced "amicably" and according to Armstrong are "closer than we've ever been". That's sweet. However, the whole thing seems slightly less sweet when you throw in the fact that Armstrong and Crow started their relationship 'round about October 2003 - the same time Kristin Armstrong was bearing those twins. Hmm.
Of course there are a lot of sides to every story, but doesn't it strike you as a wee bit odd that we're cheering on a guy who dumped his very pregnant wife for a pop-rock hottie, just because he - like millions of unheralded courageous people across the globe - survived cancer and won some bike races? As a Christian commentator put it, "What concerns me is that we are willing to elevate people who succeed at the inconsequential and fail at the truly significant."
I hate to agree with this rather judgemental statement, but I have to. Lance Armstrong may be a survivor and, sure, he can pedal his ass off, but he's not my hero.