For years I have watched the Olympics on TV and admired all the amazing stories of courage, skill, triumph and sometimes tragedy - the very best athletes in the world competing against one another.
When I was young, I was a mediocre athlete and I knew I had no hope of ever qualifying for my events (5,000m and 10,000m). I watched the great Russian distance runner, Vladimir Kutz, win gold in both the 5,000m and 10,000m at the Melbourne Olympics in 1956.
I also loved to watch the tradition of the Olympic torch, kindled in Olympia, Greece, and carried around the world and across the whole country. Watching that flame being lit at the opening ceremony always sent shivers down my spine. Well, I thought, I'll probably never get to carry the Olympic torch.
Then along came the 1988 Calgary Winter Olympics and Petrocan, the torch sponsor, decided to have a nation-wide lottery to choose ordinary people like me to carry the torch. Here was my chance, at last. You filled out a form every time you filled up with gas, and your name went into a huge hopper for the draw. I think, over the months, I filled in about 20 forms. I had heard that some people had filled thousands of entries, but I had a good feeling about it. This could be my chance, my moment of glory.
Months later, a telephone call from my daughter pulled me out of a school staff meeting. There was a letter from Petrocan. "Your name has been selected to carry the torch." Wow - this was unbelievable.
My whole family got behind this project with encouragement, love and ideas. My son even made me a replica torch, with the correct weight, to practice with. At night I ran around the neighbourhood practising my kilometre.
Finally the day came, and in my red and white torch relay uniform, I waited for my turn. When I got my hands on the torch with its beautiful flame, kindled months ago in Olympia, off I went down 15th Avenue in Prince George with cheering crowds of school kids, friends and family. I don't think my feet touched the ground the whole kilometre. Near the end of my run, we stopped so family and friends could have a hold of the torch and share a few moments of joy with me. Then on I went, and passed off to the next runner.
I still have the uniform. It hangs in my closet, and has done so through 21 years and five moves. Every once in a while I lift it down and enjoy the thrill of those few minutes over again. I have never worn it since that day in Prince George.
What a great moment in my life. Never have I felt so excited and exhilarated. This had been, for me, the culmination of a childhood dream. I was part of the Olympics. Somebody asked me what it felt like. I replied, "Like your wedding day - only better."
Now I am giving something back to the Olympic movement. I am pleased to say that I have been accepted as a volunteer to the 2010 Winter Olympics. When the 2010 torch passed through Gibsons last week, you can bet I was cheering!
