There was more happiness in the process, in the build, in the preparation. The winning was almost phoned in.

Nobody is going to feel sorry for me if I've lost a dollar or $100m.

I can get up in the morning and look myself in the mirror and my family can look at me too and that's all that matters.

I have never had a single positive doping test, and I do not take performance-enhancing drugs.

The ban is completely out of my hands. And I think in most people's minds, even if it's unrealistic to them, it's one that I left myself with no choice on.

The Europeans look down on raising your hands. They don't like the end-zone dance. I think that's unfortunate. That feeling - the finish line, the last couple of meters - is what motivates me.

Everything in my life is in perspective. OK, perspective ebbs and flows. I've had bad days, but they weren't in the last years. A bad day is 2 October 1996: 'We've got bad news for you, you've got advanced testicular cancer and you've got a coin's toss chance of survival.' That's a bad day.