Born on January 17, 1942, Muhammad Ali was one of the fearful boxers of his time. He has won the World Heavyweight Championship thrice and also a gold metal at the Olympics. BBC and the Sports Illustrated gave him the title of Sportsman of the Century.

His birth name was Cassius Marcellus Clay, Jr., named after his father who was a billboard painter by profession, and his birthplace is Louisville, Kentucky. Muhammad Ali changed his name after converting to Islam in 1975, after which he joined Nation of Islam.

Joe E. Martin, a Louisville police officer, was his first encouragement when he caught Ali fighting over his stolen bicycle. He used to do a show named Tomorrow’s Champions, with Martin and at the same time went to Stoner’s Gym, as Stoner was a better coach. Stoner was Ali’s coach for his amateur career. Under the coaching of Stone, Ali won six Kentucky Golden Gloves titles, two national Golden Gloves titles, one Amateur Athletic Union national title and 1960 Olympic gold medal in light heavyweight. In his amateur career, he had hundred wins and five losses.

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My Altura Ergofit shorts, top and gloves were a cut above the club-issue shorts and tops I normally wear, and the benefits were clear. What’s more, 80 hours later at the finish I saw no-one in a notably less-worn-out state than me. Given that a large proportion of the field finished afterwards I can only assume some were in far worse condition, riders of steel and/or touring... It’s like discovering an extra dimension, a whole new world of cycling opportunity when you’d normally be tucked up indoors moaning about the lack of cycling on the telly. “You’ll begin to suffer after about 800km,” said one touring-bike rider, complete with panniers and a bar bag. Even on the start line – where you’d have thought there might be a certain reluctance to pass unfavourable comment on the bikes of your fellow riders – there were those who raised eyebrows at my still-shiny Wilier Izoard. So, that’s it. This year’s Paris-Brest-Paris adventure is well and truly over. Another conclusion I can wholeheartedly support is the merit of riding a ‘race’ bike. I’m also convinced that the pleasure I derived from riding my bike and my confidence in it being so efficient provided great psychological succour.

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