Herald Sun writer Sam Edmund takes on Tour de France champ Cadel Evans along his Great Ocean Road Race route

HERALD Sun cycling expert Sam Edmund thought he was half a chance in a race against former Tour de France champion Cadel Evans... He wasn’t.

“HEY Cadel, I’ll wait for you at the top”.

I’d always wanted to say it.

And while I waited for Cadel Evans at his favourite coffee haunt — Annie’s Provedore in Barwon Heads — I’d somehow managed to convince myself that our ride would end with my victory salute.

Surely 21 months of retirement had added a few kilos to that finely-tuned physique, sapped some power from those legendary legs and drained the competitive juices from that famous never-say-die mindset.

I wouldn’t get bogged down by the fact he had won a small event called the Tour de France, become a world champion, won four Grand Tour stages, Fleche Wallonne and countless other races around the world.

Cadel Evans and Sam Edmund ride the picturesque route. Picture: Michael Klein

After all, I’d won a Footscray B-Grade criterium. It was from a solo break, too.

Australia’s greatest cyclist was taking me on a guided tour of his training backyard — the picturesque roads of the Surf Coast and the route for the January’s World Tour Cadel Evans Great Ocean Road Race and Swisse People’s Ride.

The turnaround point on our ride is a short, yet steep climb on the other side of Bells Beach. This will be the scene of a story the kids and grandkids will be told.

But the first in what becomes a peloton of problems emerges as Cadel walks through the front door of the cafe. How can he still be at race weight? He is a lean, muscular presence that can’t be anything heavier than 65kg.

We roll towards Thirteenth Beach where problem two smacks me in the face — literally. It’s blowing a gale.

Cadel is still unstoppable on the bike, as Herald Sun journo Sam Edmund found out. Picture: Michael Klein

“When I first bought a house down here they said, ‘hope you like wind; they invented wind down there’,” Cadel said.

It’s warm, sun glitter bounces back off the waves and the scenery is majestic. That meant nothing given I was busy mining Cadel for information.

We talk cadence — “The faster you pedal the more difficult it is on your cardio vascular system, but it’s also going to help your body recover. You get greater circulation, eliminating toxins and lactic acid.”

Climbing style — “I’m a real out-of-the-saddle climber. It’s more efficient seated, but with my physiology I could do long bursts out of the saddle at a greater energy expenditure, but with more power.”

Positioning in the wind — “Six or seven guys will fit in here,” he said, pointing to barely two metres of bitumen.

Looking back, there were warning signs from the start. The mercury is nudging 27C and Cadel is rugged up like its 2.7C. Clearly he’s not expecting to break a sweat.

We fly down the hill towards the Bells Beach car park and the conversation is about to end as the climb rears up in front of us.

Suddenly, Cadel has his hands in the drops and is spinning hard.

“This must be the softening up is it?” I asked him.

He smiles.

“This is a climb where it’s a dead road, a slow road and it drags up and drags up,” he said.

“We’ve got a bit of a head wind. Just to make it a little more challenging.”

He is grinding out of the saddle now, almost itching to hit the blast off button.

“I’ll have to show you up here on the left there’s a very nice single (mountain bike) track,” he said.

What? He’s still playing tourist and I couldn’t blow out a candle. I ask him if my legs should feel like lead now.

Cadel starts explaining something about how the legs can take time to adjust from going downhill to uphill.

It was close...

...until Cadel turned on the afterburners. Picture: Michael Klein

Sensing his distraction and with the road about to kick up again, it’s time to launch the ambush I’ve been dreaming of. But such is my fatigue I can’t even spit out my sledge correctly.

I slur something like “See you at the top, Cadel?”

It’s a lukewarm taunt and so is my attack. It’s more like a mosquito nibble on the leg than a great white shark munching its prey.

I might have edged 2cm in front, if I’m lucky.

Cadel isn’t surprised. Far from it. He’s all over my move like a cheap suit.

“All right!” he said excitedly.

Cadel Evans won the Tour de France in 2011. Picture: AFP

He powered away from me in that trademark rocking style that has conquered the world’s most intimidating peaks. It’s like I’m the only one going uphill.

My body is screaming.

“Oh God, that was a bad idea,” I gasped. It’s the last words I managed for some time.

It’s a painful, yet awesome sight seeing him glide away.

You can’t face the first ball of an Ashes Test and you can’t stand in the middle of the MCG for the opening bounce of an AFL Grand Final.

Yet you can go for a ride with an athlete who has won one of the toughest sporting events on the planet.

That’s the beauty of cycling — or so I thought.

And he returned to Melbourne to a heroes welcome. Picture: Getty Images

Originally published as Herald Sun writer Sam Edmund takes on Tour de France champ Cadel Evans along his Great Ocean Road Race route