Cycling as a whole is totally underestimated.

Steve [sports psychiatrist] had already taught me to try and stop worrying so much about pleasing everyone. We knew that this was one of my most draining flaws and he again used three groups to clarify my thinking. There would always be some people, Steve said, who would care about me and love me. In contrast there would also be a select group of people who would never warm to me - no matter what I did. And in the middle came the overwhelming mass who were largely indifferent to any of my failures or triumphs. I needed to understand that most people didn't really care what I did or said. All my anguish about how they might perceive me was redundant. Steve helped me realize that I spent too much time trying to please those oblivious people in the middle or, more problematically, the small group who would never change their critical opinion of me. I should concentrate on the people who really did show concern for me.

As a teenager, I wanted to look like the early '90s curvy supermodels. Even in my early 20s, I always said as soon as I retired from cycling, I'd get a boob job.

In tennis, you can have a bad set and still win. The part of track cycling that is difficult to find in other sports is that it's so final; there's no second chance if you make a mistake.

Don't get me wrong: there are some fantastic people who work at British Cycling who kept me together, who were there when I was struggling with it all. They were walking the same tightrope in many ways, because if you do speak up, your days are numbered.

I beat myself up the whole time because I'm striving for something I'll basically never achieve. I portray this image of confidence, of arrogance, and it's not really me. I'm never satisfied, and I'm never content. It means I'm a bit of a mess some of the time.