I've got to say Obree as well - someone who took on the best in the world on his own and won.
The documentary here's well worth a look if you haven't seen it already:
all eight parts.
Pantani was always a favourite of mine - whatever his faults, it was always incredible to see him flying up those mountains, never riding a safe race. His last ever Tour stage was typical of him, riding away on the first climb, all or nothing.
Dervla Murphy, a woman in her thirties who set off from Ireland in the winter of 1963 with a revolver in her luggage and rode her three-speed to India.
Heinz Stucke, who left Germany on his three-speed at about the same time, has visited every country in the world, and has never been back home.
Beryl Burton - the best in the country for 25 consecutive years.
Jean Robic, a pugnacious little man who rode his way to victory in the 1947 Tour de France with a mixture of skullduggery, Calvados, coffee substitute, and brilliant daring.
Jacquie Phelan - just because.
and Eddy Merckx - of course.
Calmes dans le demi-jour
Que les branches hautes font,
Pénétrons bien notre amour
De ce silence profond.