You don't suffer, kill yourself and take the risks I take just

In the realm of men who test the limits of flesh and spirit, there arose a champion whose name was sung across the mountains of Europe: Greg LeMond. His voice carried not only the echo of triumph but the deeper truth of sacrifice. He declared with unshaken soul: “You don’t suffer, kill yourself and take the risks I take just for money. I love bike racing.” These words are not of mere sport, but of the eternal fire that drives humanity forward. For in them, we hear the distinction between labor done for gold and labor embraced for love.

To understand, one must first know the nature of suffering in the life of an athlete. LeMond rode through endless miles where wind burned the face, where rain turned roads to rivers, where each climb up the mountain tore at lungs and legs like an executioner’s lash. He risked not only defeat, but his very life, as the descent of a bicycle at furious speed is a dance with death. And yet, in all these perils, his heart burned with joy, because his struggle was not chained to coin. His love for the race was his sustenance.

This truth is as ancient as the deeds of heroes. Recall Leonidas and his three hundred at Thermopylae, who stood not for wealth or treasures, but for love of their homeland, for honor, and for freedom. They did not take their stand because it was profitable, but because their souls were bound to something greater. So too with LeMond: his cycling was not an occupation but a devotion, a sacrifice at the altar of passion, where every ounce of pain was offered not for gold but for glory, not for survival but for love.

Yet hear this well: LeMond does not deny the existence of reward, but he reveals its place. Money, fame, applause—these are but shadows. They cannot compel a man to bleed, to suffer, to risk his being. Only love can sustain such burdens. In all things, the greatest deeds are birthed not by profit, but by devotion. The artist paints not for coin alone, but for beauty. The mother labors not for wage, but for her child. The explorer sails not for riches alone, but for discovery. It is love, always love, that drives mankind beyond its limits.

But beware, children of the future: many lose themselves in the chase for reward. They toil without love, and thus their suffering becomes hollow. Their risks corrode the spirit, their sacrifices leave only bitterness. LeMond reminds us that the only suffering worth enduring, the only pain worth embracing, is that which is rooted in passion. When you give yourself to what you love, pain is not destruction, but transformation. It is the crucible where purpose is forged.

What lesson, then, shall we take? Seek that which you love with a whole heart. Do not live for wages alone, for such a life is a slow death. Instead, pursue what stirs your spirit. Endure the trials that come, not because they are easy, but because they are bound to the joy that sustains you. Risk not merely for gain, but for the fire that gives meaning to your days.

So let the words of Greg LeMond be inscribed upon the soul: love makes suffering bearable, and love transforms risk into triumph. Without it, toil is empty; with it, even the hardest road becomes a path to glory. Live, then, not for profit alone, but for passion. Find that which awakens your spirit, and though the world may see you suffer, you shall know in truth that you are alive.