If, for a dare, the likes of Tiger Woods, Michael Phelps and Roger Federer were asked to race the Tour de France, how long would they survive? A day on steep uphills in the thin air of the Alps? A week on roads so sun-scorched that the tarmac melts?

Which is why, if judged solely on physical endurance, Lance Armstrong would hands-down win The Associated Press' Athlete of the Decade award.

Perhaps never again will any athlete, let alone a cancer survivor, dominate the most grueling event in sports like he did. In winning seven consecutive Tours from 1999-2005, Armstrong not only made history, obliterating the previous record of five wins. He also transformed cycling, gave a kiss of life to the legendary race that had nearly overdosed on drug scandals and raised the bar on the definition of "exceptional."

In doing so, Armstrong became one of the most divisive figures in his sport. His two-wheeled exploits were so superhuman that they divided mere mortals into two camps: those he inspired against those who suspect, without ironclad proof, that he must have doped.

With Armstrong, it all comes down to belief. No one believes in Armstrong more strongly than Armstrong himself. Of everything, that was perhaps his most vital winning ingredient.

A modest, fatherless childhood and being written off as an athlete when cancer doctors gave him less than a 50/50 chance of living left Armstrong with a chip on his shoulder as large as his native Texas. "I'll show 'em" could be his motto. More than merely competitive, Armstrong thrives on confrontation. Deadly illness, dizzying mountain climbs, accusations of doping, perceived slights from other riders _ all these and more he burned as fuel to power his intense drive.

His first post-op words to the surgeon who removed tumors from his brain, according to the cyclist, were "I can kick your ass on a bike any day."

At the Tour, the most ferocious demonstration of his implacable will came in the mist-cooled Pyrenees in 2003, when his winning streak brushed within a whisker of a premature end. Accelerating uphill away from his rivals, Armstrong shaved too close to the roadside crowds and snagged his handlebar on a spectator's bag, slamming him to the ground.

Riders with less steel and less luck _ Armstrong was fortunate not to break a bone _ might have thrown up their hands in despair. Not him. His eyes burning charcoal black with fury, Armstrong jumped back on his bike and powered past everyone, rescuing what until then had been a sub-par race for him. Of the Tours he won, that was the only one where he showed hints of vulnerability.