When I first heard the news that Lance Armstrong, seven-time time Tour de France winner, ended his fight against doping allegations in a statement on Monday, like many of you, my first reaction was, “What am I supposed to do with my Livestrong gel bracelet?”

Mine still fits as snugly as the day my friend’s mom re-gifted it to me in 2004, still perfectly compliments my bright yellow eighth grade gym uniform, and still subtly tells the girl on the treadmill adjacent to me of my controversial anti-cancer stance. Could it be that, with Armstrong no longer adhering to the Livestrong philosophy, the trademark Nike wristband might be out of style?

Yet, before you dramatically throw yours into that shoebox in your closet where you keep the mementos of life’s disappointments, allow me to make my case for why Livestrong is more motivational than ever.

As of press time, Armstrong has not been proven guilty of using performance-enhancing drugs or stripped of his Tour de France victories, despite what TMZ said or your friend tweeted.

All that went down was the United States Anti-Doping Agency (USADA, Usada to its friends), this tiny little congress-recognized anti-doping organization for the Olympics, said they’re going to take away everything Armstrong has won in the past 14 years, based on witness testimony.

Now, straight up, the USADA can ban Armstrong from the Olympics. But the olympian is retired. And they can strip his medals. That whole one bronze medal. But the Tour de France, Armstrong’s forte, is an International Cycling Union event (the Union backs Armstrong) and is run by the Amaury Sport Organization (they aren’t commenting yet). So watch for that.

But what’s important to get out of this is that Armstrong, when given a chance to defend himself to the USADA, responded by saying he was innocent but wouldn’t fight because he’s “finished with this nonsense.”

That response is quite a paradigm shift from the guy who has been such an icon living strong that they had to smush the two words together to describe it. Do you know how long the Tour de France is? Over 2,000 miles. From the same guy who said the only thing he’s on is “my bike busting my ass six hours a day,” comes, “I will no longer address this issue.”

He’s giving up.

In attempting to circumvent the USADA’s accusations to keep his spotless reputation intact, Armstrong ironically became his own antithesis. The icon of perseverance gives up. I find that so much more inspiring than the old Armstrong, whose simplistic philosophy frustrated me.

Concluding a mediocre column, I can look down at my wrist and remember: If Lance Armstrong quit, I can, too.