I was born in 1951, so obviously I was too young to remember when Mount Everest was first climbed in 1953, but the name Sir Edmund Hillary was iconic for everyone who lived in New Zealand in the Fifties. We were brought up to study his achievements.

When I played cricket, I related to those achievements. He was a goalsetter, and so was I. I was always trying to achieve targets.

I loved to imagine Hillary as I’d seen him in photographs standing at the top of Everest or at base camp, or standing there with an ice axe in his hand. In those days, they didn’t have anything near the resources or support that they need to get to the top now. They had it really tough, and that makes what they did all the more remarkable. It’s a bit like Roger Bannister and the first sub-four-minute mile. If you look at his shoes and spikes, and compare them with today ’s footwear, it’s extraordinary.

It wasn’t just that Hillary conquered Everest, but how he did it. You see, it takes a lot of very small steps rather than one giant step to get to the top. That really is what goal-setting is all about. You don’t get from A to B in a matter of minutes or hours; sometimes it takes days, months or even years. To reach the goal, you have to overcome obstacles and hardships. To get to the pleasure, you have to go through pain. I empathise with that, and that’s why Sir Edmund is a wonderful role model, and why, when I speak to young people, I use him as an example.

My career has been through many phases, but I went through hardships myself. In 1983, while playing for Nottinghamshire, I was back in New Zealand and went through a depression; a very difficult time. I had to start looking for tools and resources to get me back on track. Getting focused and goalsetting gave me a purpose and a reason for doing things. I started relating to people (especially Hillary) who had been there and done that, not only in my own sport, but in other walks of life.

My Everest was getting to 400 Test wickets, which was the milestone to achieve at the time. When you’re the first to do something, as Bannister and Hillary were, you’re going to be remembered more than those who did it second or third. I don’t know who they were with Everest or the mile.

When you’re the first, it’s a special and often amazing moment. It’s pleasurable, but you’re realistic enough to know there will always be someone who will go beyond what you have been able to achieve. In cricketing terms, I was a pace-setter for five years before Kapil Dev and others — Courtney Walsh, Shane Warne — went beyond me. And in Hillary’s case, hundreds have climbed Everest. In today’s cricketing race to the top, Muttiah Muralitharan has overtaken Walsh’s haul of 519 Test wickets, and he’s young enough to get to 600. But like Hillary and like Freddie Trueman, who was the first to take 300 Test wickets, I can sit back and think, as Fred said, ‘When they beat that, they’ll be bloody tired.’ What drives Muralitharan, I don’t know, but I was highly motivated by achieving goals, statistics and competition. When the new pacesetters have their moment, you feel it with them when you know you’ve been there and been part of it. I certainly wouldn’t dream of resenting anyone who comes after me, and neither would Hillary. It’s difficult to compare eras, but it takes skill, it takes sacrifice, it takes repetition, and Hillary had those qualities.

I’ve met him a few times. I can’t remember the first one, but I know I was awestruck. If I’m lucky, I see him once a year, usually at an airport. I’ll tap him on the shoulder. He’ll say, ‘G’day, Richard,’ I’ll say, ‘G’day, Ed,’ and we’ll go our separate ways.

Looking at Hillary now, he’s in his 80s and he’s revered for humanitarian reasons. He goes back to Nepal; he has charities, trusts and hospitals, but he’s as humble as he is revered. In some ways he’s a recluse. He knows there are certain occasions he needs to attend, especially if it’s for charity, but he doesn’t seek the limelight or publicity. I understand that: when you’re at home, you’re in your own space. Once you go out of your front door and on to the main street, you become public property.

You tend to be recognised, which of course is a compliment, so you do autographs and photographs, but you still enjoy your privacy, I can assure you.

When I had my 50th birthday, my wife was looking for something different for me. She bought a print of Everest and a photo of Hillary, put them together in a frame and sent it for Ed to sign. He did: ‘With admiration, regards, Ed Hillary.’ That piece of memorabilia is incredibly meaningful to me, and it’s proudly displayed in our lounge.

Hillary has done something nobody else is ever going to do. I’m so proud for him. He’s just a great fella