It would be nice to win the Tour de France bicycle race, I suppose, but who wants to train like Lance Armstrong … for anything?

Armstrong, of course, owns the 3,500-kilometer tour, has won the race three times in a row and will be seeking his fourth when the race concludes July 28. The fact that he lost a testicle to cancer has slowed him not at all. He is so dominant that rumors of drug use follow him down the road in every race.

According to a typically exhaustive profile in the July 15 New Yorker, Armstrong comes armed with an oversized heart and a capacity for work and pain. His heart rate is 32 beats a minute, just this side of a coma for most people.

On a typical training week after a 250-kilometer race Sunday, he rested Monday, followed by a two-hour ride Tuesday, then a five-hour ride Wednesday, then a two-hour ride Thursday, a four-hour ride Friday followed by a two-hour session following a motorcycle to learn proper “drafting” techniques.

No one else trains like this, according to coach Chris Carmichael. “Nobody would dare,” he said.

This is not a fun life. Armstrong calculates each watt of energy he expends in the bicycle seat, then uses a digital scale to weigh every morsel of food to generate enough calories to cover the expenditure of energy. When the writer (Michael Specter) met Armstrong at a Mexican restaurant, the champion rider had exactly two Doritos.

I have the “hybrid” 18-speed bicycle, complete with the required helmet, gloves and extra mirrors. I have the Walkman, a must to supply rock ‘n’ roll for those long rides. I drew the line at special bicycle shoes. Even I have limits.

The bike looks very nice sitting in my barn. I live in a perfect area for riding. From Cobb Manor, there is nice, easy, six-mile loop around Megunticook Lake or the longer 16-mile run through Lincolnville, traffic willing. I find the 16 miles to be my personal maximum before certain portions of the anatomy go to sleep, perhaps never to wake again.

So far this summer, I have been in the saddle exactly twice.

There is always a reason not to go. It’s too hot. It’s too cold. Looks like rain. Traffic looks heavy because it’s the weekend. I don’t feel good. Too busy.

I have always marveled at people like Armstrong who can focus so intently on a single activity, like Olympic athletes. But I hate to learn too many details of the training methods. So many of them are as insane as Armstrong in their chosen field.

The gymnastics events are always among the most impressive of the Olympics, not only because they feature the most amazing human bodies on the planet. The routines boggle the mind and defy basic rules, including gravity. But when you learn that the gymnast has spent seven days a week since the age of 5 to learn the routines, it seems to take a little luster off the accomplishment.

I would like to learn that Armstrong and all those Olympians live in sloth like the rest of us for most of the year, pounding beers and mainlining cheeseburgers. Then a few months before the event, they should take out the sweats, dust off the bike and get in some kind of shape for the race or the event.

I would like to see the Tour de France and the Olympics, even football and baseball, set a limit on the amount of training allowable.

Then, it would be much more impressive to see Armstrong collapse across the finish line after climbing the Alps on his bicycle. I would guess that he would have a much more enjoyable life.

Maybe he could have three Doritos.