Back in 2008, my first season, I was asked by my Slipstream team to do a daily report at races for their website. I enjoyed it, my writing was appreciated and the talent scouts at Procycling asked if I would be interested in scribing for the mag. Thirteen seasons later I’m still here, having typed out every word of the 169 columns that have appeared on these pages, often just scraping in ahead of deadline after numerous panicky emails and texts from editors. I enjoyed it, it kept my brain active, though stringing a few sentences together was sometimes a challenge halfway through a grand tour. There’s a certain poetry about the magazine’s demise happening just as I have decided to end my career. I remember the launch of Procycling in 1999, leafing through the pages as a budding young cyclist. News is at our fingertips now, but there is still nothing like a magazine dropping on your doormat, turning pages to discover what’s next. It’s more tactile than the swipe of a screen. Pushing deadlines to the limit became a habit, not through poor organisation but I wanted to be as current as possible. I also often forgot to write the column until the panicky email landed, and I would hurriedly jot some words down on a flight, at the airport terminal or in the team bus. I never struggled for subject matter, though that was aided by some inspirational briefs from the editor. I do hope it was never boring.