Racing Through the Dark

The past is as important as the future, but we only live in the here and now.

The manner in which one loses the battle can sometimes outshine the victory.

The smallest issues can become the most important things in life and reality slips away.

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

If you're not at the front, you're not in the race.

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?

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

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

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

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.

This place has been my home. They liked me here. Not any more. Now they will look the other way. Now I don't belong.

Preparation was a term I was to hear more and more. It had another more sinister meaning. If you were prepared, it meant you were doped.

If the riders, governing bodies, teams, race organisers and media weren't doing anything about it, then what the hell could I, a 20-year-old neo-pro from Scotland, do about it?

One group of riders doped, the others alongside them racing clean. You can work out for yourselves which group was fastest.

I had grown used to getting a pat on the back and being told after a good result: 'Well done, David - you should be happy, you're the first clean rider.

Nothing was being done to help the non-dopers, to encourage or support them. Even the clean riders like myself and Moncout knew how easy it was to cheat the tests.

Never before had I raced in an angry mood and I couldn't believe how powerful it was. Now I understood why Lance used anger so effectively and why he hated the people he had to beat at the tour.

I’d never considered myself to be that ambitious or driven before, yet I stood there waiting for us to roll out through the start line knowing that taking part wasn’t enough. I wanted to be a racer, not just a finisher.

It was ridiculous really. I had just won a major race despite not being in top form, yet I was going to dope.

I didn't care about goals or expectations any more, I was just determined to race my heart out.