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.

I like my hands. Which is lucky as I have to spend all day looking at them on the handlebars.

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.

People do make mistakes and I think they should be punished. But they should be forgiven and given the opportunity for a second chance. We are human beings.

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.

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

The manner in which one loses the battle can sometimes outshine the victory.