This is how a friend described me: " We need to warn them about this big guy with legs like tree trunks and a heart the size of an ox. He doesn’t know how to eat on long rides, but that doesn’t slow him down; he hasn’t worked out that you shouldn’t spend all of your time hammering on the front; he has no idea of rest days and is the kind of guy that follows up his first century ride with another one, the very next day! He seems so soft and gentle, but put him on the front and he will turn your legs to jelly and inflict pain and suffering, all while wearing a smile. Oh and in the middle of an epic ride, while you lay in a crumpled. cramp-riddled heap on the side of the road he will ask, quite innocently, why you don’t just straighten your legs out and start riding."