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It’s no mystery that most of the irregular verbs in any language are the ones most commonly used. It’s a mark of affection that we become lazy with the real form, as we have a familiarity with the words that gives us the confidence to use them in shorter forms. So too are we more likely to give nicknames – at times even cruel - to the people closest to us.
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| Although I am aware it is a fascination shared by none, for a year of my life I yielded with some regularity to a burning desire to torture myself riding at speed up a hill I lovingly came to refer to as, ironically, The Hill. As with best friends and grammar, the better I got to know this incline of pain the less likely I was to call it by its real name, Torricelle, and the better I got to know it, the lower the number was on my stopwatch when I reached the summit.
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| Just outside Verona are a number of hills, the most cycle friendly being one so suitable it was used for the World Cycling Championships in about 2004 or 2005. Although I discovered it while out running its suitability for a ride didn’t go unnoticed and when I got hold of a few wheels it was the first place I went.
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| The views are fantastic, sadly these pictures do it no justice, but I rarely looked at the horizon, instead I put my weight down on the pedals for 13 long minutes in the desperate hope of reducing it to 12 long minutes. It was always steep, more so at times and there was only a very short section at about one third distance where the gradient fell almost flat. It was no time for a rest, I had a time to beat, and quite unusually for me I remained totally focused on this one goal until I got to the top.
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| The first occasion I timed myself I was in good shape, I got up in 13:47 and thought that was a good performance. For six months I failed to break 13 minutes and saw it as the benchmark of good riding. I knew I’d do it in the end, but could never have been prepared for the week in which I not only beat 13 minutes but 12 minutes too, and I when I left was proud to announce to people who did not even care that I had achieved a PB of 11:57.
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| If I did it now I doubt I’d beat 15:00.
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| This might be the most pointless page on the site, but to be honest it’s about the thing that I’ve enjoyed most. Strange, that people enjoy something that hurts! I mean, hurts. But I could never have slowed down. It’s not the pain that motivates cyclists etc but the overcoming it. It doubles up as a metaphor for life, the to quit or not to quit, and let’s face it if I’d bottled it I’d never have got up there nearly as fast. And in some ways I’ve been waiting for that inner strength to return ever since, not as a means to ride up a hill faster than ever, but the power to carry on when things seem hard.
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| There are hills in Almaty, I have a bike, but for a little fresh air and fresh impetus I’d do the same again.
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