Dear Lance,

For the past couple of weeks, I've been taking a hydrorider class at my gym. For anyone who doesn't know what that is, it's basically a spinning class in the water. As in more difficult than on land--and much easier on the butt. Or as I like to think of it, a wet Tour de France. There are imaginary hills, brutal conditions, like when the water is cold, and constant distractions. It's not easy. And often when I'm pedaling away, I think of Lance Armstrong and his fall from grace. I think of what I would say to him if I ever got a chance--cyclist to cyclist.

Lance, I want you to know that I get it. I get the draw to gain that extra edge. Cycling--on land and in water--is competitive. I want to beat the three other women in my hydrorider class everytime we drop those bikes into the water. But I would be doing myself and the sport of hydroriding (I guess that's what you call it) a disservice if I gave into that urge. Sure, I could easily hit the 'roids and hover longer or pedal all the while I'm working those foam dumbells in the water for a kickass upper body workout, but I'd only be cheating myself. I've had some of the ladies in the locker room push me to do some blood doping, but when you're gifted with natural talent and drive like you and I are, Lance, it doesn't make sense to risk it all.

It makes me sad that you couldn't see that. So I ride on with a heavy heart and the knowledge that as of right now you and I have the same number of Tour de France wins. See you on the bike.