At 20, I fell from a fourth-floor window and broke my back. For four days they said I’d never walk again, but I had a miraculous recovery.

Last year, driving in California, I found myself on the wrong side of the road. I was 30 seconds away from hitting two cars coming the other way.

I made a solo attempt at the Matterhorn in 1996 and came very close to falling. I waited until the dawn light came, so I could retrace my route, but I was hanging off my ice axes for 45 minutes.

I hit a bit of lumpy tarmac driving my motorbike over the Pyrenees in the early 1980s. There was no safety barrier and I found myself riding along the edge of a precipice on half the width of the tyres for 100 yards.

A road track car, a Porsche GT3. I’ve done the 24-hour race in Le Mans, which was a dream come true.

I don't enjoy it but I know that I have got to live with [myself] if I'm not going to give it 100 per cent. The key thing is getting to the start line and knowing that I couldn't have done any more, that I didn't back off. You accept the pain, because if you didn't there would always be that element of doubt.

Max Levy, a German sprint cyclist who came second behind me a lot.

Jason Queally, a former teammate. He is older than me and was Olympic champion in Sydney. The way he mentored me, even though he knew I would be a rival, was amazing.

The six Olympic gold medals, because at school I was never great at sport. When I look back on my career I think, how on Earth did that happen?

I just like to get to the start line knowing there was nothing else I could have done, that there wasn't a single session I didn't give 100 per cent. The physical certainty means you can relax mentally and let the performance come.