I'm an accumulation of every single thing I've done, good and bad.

I shave my legs twice a week. It's hard the first time you do it. But I'm very lazy. For a team photo in December I just did the fronts.

Often the best guys are just those that can suffer longer, who don't give up. And it's so easy to give up, when you're on a mountain and it's really hurting. We go through a lot physically.

If you're not at the front, you're not in the race.

It seemed romantic but also tragic - people would be winning but then lose it all, or crash but fight on, break bones but get back on their bikes and try to finish. Just getting to the end was seen as an achievement in itself.

My epiphany came in that police cell: I realized I was about to lose everything and it didn't bother me, not in the slightest. I'd come to hate cycling because I blamed it for the lie I was living.

In Italy it's full-on stardom when you're a cyclist - eating in restaurants for free, it's great.