Jason Atkinson: Lance Armstrong, Doping, & What It Means for the Sport I Love

When I raced in Belgium in 1992, I thought I was finally on the verge of breaking into the highest levels of cycling. I came home to Oregon, back to skiing, got run over by a bubble-gummer driving her Daddy's Chevy Blazer and ended up in politics. Through it all, I have remained a complete lover of cycling.

As I write, the Lion of Flanders flag is a mast over my farm. I put it up for the Tour of Flanders; keep it up for the Paris–Roubaix (the greatest bike race of the season) and through the G...