The crowd was lined up on the Champs-Elysees awaiting our arrival. I could hear the cheering in the distance, and it was getting louder and louder. The closer my teammates and I got, the louder it got. You could feel the excitement in the air, and I was stunned that all of these people were there for me. They were there to watch me cross the finish line of the Tour de France. I had crossed this exact finish line before, but this time it was different. I knew deep down that I would not race in this grueling race again. I had a mixed bag of emotions right then and there, sadness and happiness. I had achieved something no other person had been able to do: I was going to be a five-time Tour de France champion. Before I crossed the finish line I looked back at how it all started.

I was not born into a racing family. My Dad was a farmer and worked in the fields. I began to ride my bike and to the fields to help. The wind blowing through my hair, leaning as I went through curves, and as fast as I could go down the hills was nothing more than an adrenaline rush. The more I rode, the farther I wanted to go, and I wanted to go as fast as I could. I rode more and more, and my friends and family said I should enter the Spanish Amature Championship. Little did I know, I was about to become a champion and a gold medal Olympic champion. That was how it all began, a son of a farmer in the small town of Villalva, Spain.

The finish line is in sight, and the crowd is roaring. I am so close now, that my teammates are clapping me on the back, and we are giving each other high fives. My front tire crosses the finish line and my hands leave the handlebars and I raise them above my head. I did it!! Someone gives me a glass of champagne and I raise it to my teammates and the crowd, to toast all of them. I want to soak it in, the noise, the cheering, the applause, all of it. I want to close my eyes and take a mental picture of the crowd cheering for me. I did it -- I finished!