Gone in sixty minutes

Having been persuaded, i.e. told, to amble in to the local town centre on Sunday afternoon I managed to slip the lead and have a covert sortie in to the local Waterstones. Our branch is not the biggest nor does it offer the least expensive range of reading matter in the known universe but sometimes it does offer the occasional gem.

Nestling near the ghosted biographies of several Carlos Kickaballs was "The Hour" by Michael Hutchinson.

"Hutch" is a bit of a legend on the UK time-trialling circuit. He has not only held and maintained several of the national titles and comp' records but he's also a pretty approachable chap to boot. Well, he always "let on" whenever I said hello to him. Many of us who rode the F1 courses a few years ago (and still) would have been passed by him as he zoomed off to post some ridiculously good (winning) time.

"The Hour"  doesn't only cover Huthinson's own attempt to beat Boardman's "Athlete's Record" of 49.441 Kilometres (which has subsequently been bettered the less feted Sosenka), it also pulls together anecdotes and references to previous riders and record holders. Amusing tales of stretchy tape measures, adultery, substance abuse and general eccentricity (involving washing machine parts, cornflakes and overshoes to name a few) and chicanery abound.

The book is really well paced read (partly because the prose is so clear and the topic interesting - maybe it has more limited wider audience) but what is really intriguing is the fact that Hutchinson had the single-mindedness to keep pressing on with his initial attempt despite the interventions of frame-builders who couldn't follow designs, coaches and pro's who thought he was misguided/ daft and near fatal combinations of chicken sandwiches and bad hotels off the M45.

Fair play to him on a good tale well told and even fairer play just for contemplating something that Merckx said had taken years off of his life expectancy.