I've seen pictures of me, and I look mean and arrogant. That's how I felt on the inside. I think now, 'Is that really me?'

I'm very passionate about my two Dobermans, Stella and Mr Jonty. I go on and on and on about them, and people have to tell me to shut up before I get out pictures of them.

I find it hard to act other than the way I feel.

I've always been like this - insecure - because I'm striving for something that can't be attained. I don't just want to be OK at this: I want to be the best at it, and I've never achieved that in my mind.

As a kid growing up - I can see now - it didn't matter what I did, as long as it was something I could be really good at. Cycling just happened to be the opportunity that came along.

I like heels and make-up.

It's a very unique feeling - to be that strong and unbreakable. But I'm working towards it.

I love it and really, really enjoy weight training. I love free weights. I find it really rewarding.

One of the first coaches I worked with on the national team told me that I was too skinny, too puny, and had no natural acceleration. He said I'd be better off looking for another facet of sport to follow. That was a really, really bad moment. For a long time, I felt as if my dad was the only one who had faith in me.

Being a track sprinter, when it's all about a thousandth of a second, there is no escaping the numbers every single day.

The sprint is sometimes like a toss of a coin. Sometimes it's heads, and sometimes it's tails.

I went to Australia and did a three day hike with my fiance through the wilderness, which was nice.

Oh, I am an angel, though sometimes I wish I was more of a devil.

I think I might become a pescatarian. I love sushi, couldn't give it up.

I just want to prove that I am really good at something. And I haven't quite done that yet - at least not to myself. I know I could ride so much better, with more ease, with more finesse. I feel I'm nowhere near as good as I should be.

I've been told from the start, 'Don't fall in love with the horses'. But that's so hard. I'm in awe.

As weird as it is it to see yourself on screen, it made everything we've been through seem very real. And, well, London is only weeks away now.

Cycling as a whole is totally underestimated.

As a professional track cyclist, I have always challenged myself, and I enjoy seeing how I cope when faced with the unknown.

I normally don't listen to my instincts because I'm so full of doubt.

I'm someone who wears their heart on their sleeve.

I was just, like, all I want to do is be really good at something. Really, really good at something, so people are vaguely impressed by me.

I'm not the perfect model of what an athlete should be, mentally or physically.

I've always been very open with my emotions. Actually, that's got me into a lot of trouble, too, in the past.

I was constantly being told I shouldn't talk so much about how I was feeling. They seemed to think I was giving too much away to my competitors. Showing signs of weakness. But I've always thought that was rubbish.

I've never pretended that I'm not female and vulnerable. To me, it's just being honest.

We are all totally committed as elite athletes. To think that pushing people around and bullying them is the best way to get results out of them is just ludicrous.

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 never really felt I had the same respect as my male team-mates. My opinion wasn't worth as much. I used to sit quietly in meetings and not say anything, as I knew my opinions would be disregarded. And that's after I had become Olympic champion and multiple world champion.

I turn left for a living.

I was put on a pony as a kid at some birthday party when you're all led around.