For years I watched Lance Armstrong denounce those who dared accuse him of doping. I was with him for a long time. I even bought his basic defense, which was to say that he was accused falsely by moral inferiors who could never compete with him. I watched his now-infamous Nike ad for inspiration and made sure my daughter saw it, too. (Check it out; today it seems like a “Saturday Night Live” skit.) She and I would sit together on our couch, in Rome, where we then lived, and watch the annual Tour de France, cheering as Lance charged up the impossible heights of Mt. Ventoux or whizzed by the hundreds of thousands of people on his way to yet another victory. I wanted my daughter to know that there are people willing to sacrifice and work for what they believe in—to struggle and suffer. Yes, I was a fool.