The first time I rode a bike I was four or five. I crashed into the back of a car.

I might have changed, but that did not mean the sport had.

I was awarded 'Most Aggressive Rider of the Day', generally given to the most spectacular loser of the day.

I'll go [racing] until my body won't let me any more. Someone said to me: "The day you stop, you won't be able to get back on the same way as when you did as a pro." I want to delay that kiss goodbye as long as possible.

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

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.