Greg LeMond: "At 25, I was on top of the world; nine months later, I was clinging to life" I knew I was dying. Blood poured from my wounds, spurting wildly from my neck. I was trying to cry out, but with every breath I choked and gargled through the blood in my throat. Inside, I repeated over and over: Oh, my God, I'm shot! My strength seeped away into the scrub and brush of the remote northern California ranch. The shotgun blast was unbelievably loud, right in my ear.
