Matty Lloyd never uses a heart rate monitor.

He never measures his power, cadence, speed, or the distance he rides. And he never wears a watch.

He just kits up, leaves his house in Varese, heads out on the bike and gets home four, five or six hours later when he's finished.

That's not just old school training, it's goddamn Jedi.

In stage 6 of the Giro, he won his first stage of a Grand Tour, and his first race in Europe in two years.

He'd dropped his breakaway companion of 140km on the last climb of the day, and rode solo to the stage win with a safe one-minute lead. But even as the finish line approached, he only chose to sit up with 50m to go and casually throw both arms in the air.

To everyone who knows Lloydy, it was typically laconic, and wonderfully low key.

In seizing this stage, he also got himself the maglia verde for King of the Mountains, and held it for 10 days before Ivan Basso snatched it after Mount Zoncolan.

But on stage 20, the Zen master from Melbourne went on the attack.

This second to last stage boasted five categorised climbs, and the race organisers proudly announced that all snow had been swept aside for the final ascent up the Gravia. So good of them!

Lloydy got in a break, with some other GC riders hoping to make time, including Carlos Sastre (2008 Tour de France winner), Alexandre Vinokourov (2007 Vuelta d'Espana winner), Marco Pinotti and two-time former Giro winner, Gilberto Simoni, and went about getting the green jersey back.

He relentlessly sprinted for every KOM point on offer, and looked lithe and comfortable. It was almost as if he was considering fighting for another stage win. Impressive for a man who has spent the previous two seasons riding for Australia's best Tour rider, Cadel Evans.

When Lloyd was interviewed after his stage 6 victory, he looked exhausted and perhaps a little in disbelief. He shook his head and pleased the audience by speaking Italian.

He spoke highly of Evans, saying that two years as chief domestique was never the reason for an absence of personal results, but he also stated that the Giro was like ‘destruction.'

His view was that anything was possible by week three. And this time, Lloyd had the ‘luxury' of riding in the group for many of these challenging stages, losing as much time as he needed to conserve energy for when it mattered.

Lloyd's coach, the ever-scientific Aldo Sassi, apparently wrings his hands in frustration every week. Again and again, Lloyd reports with feelings and sensations and not a skerrick of data.

Because really, if the break is up the road, and he needs to be there, then power, HR, speed ... none of these things matter. He must get there.

To watch a small, lean rider, built to climb and using only the feedback from his body is like the vision of Haile Gebrselassie running the 10000m. Others look heavy, cumbersome and as though they're trying too hard.

After the notorious Gavia, the KOM jersey was safely back on the shoulders of the lad from Melbourne. There were no more climbing points up for grabs in the 2010 Giro d'Italia and so Lloyd relaxed, dropped back from the group of time-chasers and allowed himself a satisfied smile.

In that quiet, low-key way he's so famous for.