Lance Armstrong greeted me at the front door, barefoot, holding a glass of Cabernet. Though we’re neighbors among the rolling hills of Austin, Texas, we’re not especially close. Occasionally we bump into each other around town and talk about politics. We are, in other words, acquaintances. So when he invited me to dinner in mid-August—at my instigation—my plan was to discuss the Olympics and his future in Texas politics. Armstrong insisted he had something important he wanted to tell me in... more
