To properly understand Boardman’s impact on British cycling you need to wind the clock back to before the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona. Back then, Chris tells me as we sit down and order coffees in the comfortable, if unshowy, environs of his private members club in London, things were very different. “I was part of a very small group, a very small club that were involved in high level cycling in the late 80s, early 90s.”

The story of the German champion being beaten by a woodworker from the Wirral made headlines round the world. But perhaps more importantly, at least as far as Boardman and British cycling were concerned, it made the British Olympic authorities sit up and take notice. “Five years later when lottery funding came on stream, they went ‘right, we’ve got all this money and we’re giving it to sport.’” Sports where Brits had the potential to win medals – and gold medals in particular – were to be the main beneficiaries. And Boardman had proven that even with very little funding, cycling could provide a big, golden return on investment.

More than two decades later, people still talk about the importance of that win in attracting funding. In 2014 when Jenny Jones won Britain’s first Olympic medal on snow, British Ski & Snowboard’s performance director spoke excitedly about it being the sports’ “Boardman moment”. Of course the growth in British Cycling which followed Chris’ gold wasn’t just down to him as a rider, a fact that no-one is more keen to point out than the man himself. Always unassuming, he explains: “I think the most important thing that came out of [Barcelona] was a sequence of events. It wasn’t actually my personal winning – and that’s not false modesty – it was that Peter Keen, my coach, got credibility from that event.”

“[Peter] was interested in the journey rather than the destination. He gave me a fascination with being better rather than being the best, and if you get that bit right then it tends to lead to being the best. Peter drove a lot and that taught us to be the people who talked about numbers and [all] the technical aspects. Because we were fascinated by performance, that’s what we talked about. And then somewhere the term ‘The Professor’ got coined.” Boardman can’t remember exactly where the nickname came from, but he believes the moniker is as much Peter Keen’s as it is his.

The science-focussed approach Boardman adopted (which has since proved so successful for British Cycling) also has another, more unexpected source however. The revolutionary bike had played a big part in his Barcelona victory and Boardman and Keen were already thinking outside the box when it came to design. But in the years immediately after 1992 it was Boardman’s biggest rival Graeme Obree who really pushed them to do things differently.

The Scotsman won individual pursuit at the World Championships in 1993 and 1995, and in the mid-90s he and Boardman one-upped each other several times in chasing the prestigious “hour record” – the furthest distance ridden in one hour. Yet Obree’s strange-looking homemade bikes were mocked at the time, and with his awkward personality (he was later diagnosed with bipolar disorder) he was considered something of an oddball. Boardman however believes he was a misunderstood genius, despite their rivalry.

Their innovative, DIY approach “might not have been very pretty, or it might have been held together with gaffer tape,” but it was impressively effective. Boardman’s performances throughout the 90s speak for themselves. On the track he took gold in the 1994 and 1996 World Championships.

When he took his show on the road he was a blisteringly fast time triallist, winning several World Championship medals, a bronze at the Atlanta Olympics and so many of the opening Tour de France stages that the French dubbed him Monsieur Prologue. With the first of these he ended Britain’s long maillot jaune drought in emphatic style, finishing the short 7.2km course fully 15 seconds ahead of five-time Tour winner Miguel Indurain, who could only manage second.

These successes played a key role in securing future funding for British cyclists, and his thinking helped set the template British Cycling’s successful data-driven approach. But Boardman’s work wasn’t finished when he hung up his cleats. Wearing various different hats, he’s continued to play a huge role in the biking revolution that’s swept the UK in recent years.

Off the saddle he’s perhaps best known for Boardman Bikes. Now a partnership with bike retailer Halfords, the brand specialises in making bikes that the general public can actually afford. “In 2007, we were the first people to make a sub-£1,000 carbon fibre bike. We made something that was cool – and that the pros were using – accessible to everyone. That was a game changer,” says Chris. The sheer number of Boardmans you see on the streets of Britain’s cities suggests the company has become an effective tool when it comes to spreading the cycling gospel.

This is something that Chris cares about passionately. He’s become well-known for his advocacy, using his public profile to push for pro-cycling policies. In this, as with his professional career, he’s not afraid to do things differently or put noses out of joint. In a Sky News interview earlier this year he ridiculed the government’s proposed budget for bike infrastructure: “It’s insulting to our intelligence that this is dressed up as ‘investment’ in cycling.”

It’s not hard to understand his frustration. This is someone who based his whole career on a scientific data-driven approach. A man whose very presence at these high-level discussions is proof that evidence is superior to gut feeling. But if converting people to the cause is occasionally a slow process, Chris is also encouraged by how far cycling culture in this country has come.

“The Tour de France came to the UK in the 90s and everyone would go: ‘It’s great!’ But then they turned round from this colourful experience which they quite liked and there was nothing there for them. No sportives, nothing if you weren’t already in a cycling club. But when we came to 2007, there were mass participation events that were things that people could get involved in.

“The Tour came back to London and two and a half million people stood by the road and watched it, [and by then we] had a way to engage with normal people.” Gone are the days of cycling being a weird, fringe activity or something that the French or Dutch did better than us.

The link between mass participation and elite performance is an obvious one. Greater numbers at grassroots level means a bigger talent pool of cyclists, whose increased chances of success then inspire the next generation. It is (if you’ll excuse the pun) a cycle – a virtuous circle of growth and improvement.

If Boardman ever needed affirmation that this particular cycle, one that he played a huge part in setting in motion, is moving in the right direction, all he needs do is look out from the BBC commentary box over the next few days: At the team, at their world class, science-driven support operation, at the fans who’ve travelled to Rio to see them and at the millions watching at home. Regardless of how many medals Team GB win this time around (and of course we’re hoping they win them all) British Cycling and cycling in Britain are here to stay. To a large extent, we have Chris Boardman to thank for that.

Read more from the Olympic Issue here  or follow the latest Olympic news here.

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