“I'd just killed some of the best riders in the world - and I was clean. I'd taken nothing - no EPO, no cortisone, no testosterone, no painkillers, no caffeine. I had justified to myself that I was a great rider without drugs - yet perversely given myself the green light to dope again. I'd proved what I could do clean - how much more could I do if I was doped?”

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

“I was not a doper, I told myself - I just injected myself to recover and needed pills to sleep.”

“I had made it somewhere special, and I'd gotten there all on my own. Nobody had given it to me. Nobody had told me to do it. I'd climbed and climbed and climbed, and this was my reward. To watch over the world, and to be alone with myself. That, I found, was what I needed.”

“I didn't want to take it. I knew it was a powerful drug, but I also knew it was a catabolic drug that consumed the body.”

“What an idiot I'd been. What a spoilt brat. What a bloody fool.”

“How could I do it, how could a person go that low? And I understand your question, to which I reply, Are you kidding? That's nothing. I'd been much lower than that. And I expected to see myself do worse.”