I'm made to ride a bike, not do washing.

You can't take my batteries out; I'm always on the go.

Any race, I'm always going for the top step on the podium.

I definitely thrive off adversity. I know it's always up from there.

I'd love to be able to dominate cycling in general, not just one event.

I think, in BMX, it's a lot like horse racing. I wouldn't really bet on it.

I've got to know my strength and weaknesses and the same for my competitors.

If I had to work a 9 A.M. to 5 P.M. job in the public service, I'd freak out.

I like pressure. Diamonds are made under pressure, and I definitely enjoy it.

It's an honour to be a world champion, and it can never be taken away from you.

One medal. One shot. One lap. Eight riders. No lanes. No right of way. Just go.

The biggest thing I've learnt is not to limit myself by the norm or what I should be doing.

The mistakes you make and lessons you learn at a young age are what gets you to an Olympic level.

In BMX, you need an inner mongrel, something that's a point of difference in the female category.

Any race I go into, I've always got the attitude of throwing myself into and wanting nothing but No. 1.

BMX is never over until the finish line, and I am always trying to challenge myself for that world stage.

I really want to win a medal and would want to win gold. It's my fire and fuel, life and dream, everything.

I get called Pink quite a lot. The Pink of the Action Sport World. Or Queen of the Dirt - some call me that.

You learn a lot from your first Olympic Games experience. Everyone thinks they're prepared, but you never are.

I am just this small-town Canberra girl that's taken riding a little kid's bike on dirt tracks to the highest level.

I've always been a bit of a daredevil, even as a little girl with a pretty high pain tolerance and things like that.

I truly believe that it's all of the hard times that make you step up to the next level, and that's what makes you a champion.

I quickly realised that there is no 'I' in team. So I am so fortunate to have a supportive family that has been there for me since day one.

At the end of the day, I'm riding a little kid's bike around a track; that's what I've done for as long as I can remember. Now it's just on a bigger stage at the Olympics.

There's so many levels. You can rise on the day to win a national event or a world title but the level you need to rise to win an Olympics Games is another one altogether.

The majority of the time, I'm just in my team training clothes or work-out gear, but whenever I'm killing time, I always like to watch 'Project Runway' or 'America's Next Top Model.'

BMX is still a young sport in Olympic terms. So the sport science behind it is also relatively new. As a program, it's only going to get better as the sport gets bigger and more extreme.

You have got to act on instinct; you've got to ride from your heart and let that performer come out. You can't over-think it too much because if you're thinking, the race is already over.

I've always been very competitive - that runs in our family. I'd always try to beat my brother. I'd race the boys and wanted to beat them. They toughened me up. They didn't treat me like a girl.

I just want kids to have a chance to go and try an Olympic sport. Every kid has a bike - that's how I started, and one kid coming along and giving it a go could make that journey to the Olympics.

A female professional athlete has to have the whole package, as opposed to a guy who can just be good at sport. You have to have a job or go to uni or do three sports instead of one, you have to be a standout.

There were times when I was down and frustrated being in a male-dominated sport: you don't get the support. It affected me. Layne Beachley helped me beat that. That was the difference for me and helped get me through.

It would be simpler going to an Olympic Games knowing you had to nail one trick that you've done a hundred times, and if you do it, you'll win. Or if you're a swimmer, if you swim a certain time, you will win. In BMX, there are no guarantees.

I started racing BMX when I was five years old. I followed in my brother's footsteps, and I was a little tomboy. When I came into the sport, there wasn't many women. I raced with the boys; I looked up to the boys, and all my mentors were boys.

You never hold back. If I turn up to the track and feel cautious or not committed, I turn around and go home. If you don't have that full commitment when you're pedaling into a 40-foot jump, there's not much room for error, and you'll come off worse.

When I compete, I love a huge crowd, expectation, pressure, and I like to have nerves: the butterflies flying and my hands shaking. This way, I am completely amped, focused, and ready; otherwise, I tend to be to relaxed, content, and don't perform at my maximal potential.

Mum and dad would drive me to the ACT Academy of Sport gym at 5 A.M., sit in the car and read a book, and then drive me to school. I appreciated it when I was younger, but I didn't really understand how much they were putting into it. Now I look at budgets of $70,000 to compete, and I think, 'Wow, they've put so much into this.'

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