It's been a tumultuous week in cycling, with just about everyone who's ever thrown a leg over a saddle coming clean about their drug use. Whether by guilt, wanting to clean up the sport or fear of being outed by others, riders are singing like birds.
And so it is with much humility that I must too admit, I used drugs. It was during the Tour in 2001, Armstrong going for his third 'straight' win, when I succumbed. The late nights watching the live stages were just that bit beyond me, and I administerd liberal quantities of caffiene to get me through the gruelling mountains.
Then again in 2004, when the Texan had rendered the Tour the most boring in recent history, I turned to Panadol to numb the pain of watching the frustratingly inept challenge of Ullrich and Co. struggle to make a race of it. The boredom nearly killed me, I had to do something.
Of course, there is also my abnormally high levels of testosterone. Which explains my thinning pate. Yep, I am Macho Fantastico.
Oh yeah, and I smoked a shitload of pot and dropped acid in the 60's.