Back in 1988 I really wanted to be one of the runners with the Olympic torch. To do so, you had to be picked from a lottery; ballots could be dropped off at Petro-Canada. All very democratic, but prone to ballotbox-stuffing. I did not understand probability at the time, so I thought my one entry would give me a reasonable chance to be one of the runners in a major metropolitan area. Silly me.
22 years later and it is not a lottery. It sounds slightly fairer in that you register online for a spot and only a limited amount of people are allowed to register in each area. Or you can try reasoning with them and tell officials why you think you deserve to carry the flame. Apparently being an avid runner is not a good enough reason. It would help if I was in a wheelchair. (Do I sound bitter?) Being a celebrity also seems to be a way in. (Yeah, I’m looking at you Shania Twain!)
Needless to say, I was not chosen for the great honour.
I did leave work early to go see it. Traffic was a mess because the route had been closed off. I had planned to get to the Running Room and see it go by there at 5:30, but I got home at 5:20. I was out the door, by 5:27 after changing into running clothes and I started running to the Running Room, hoping the flame was late. Lucky me, the flame was going along Whyte Avenue, so I got to see it go by. Strangely, it didn’t look like they were allowing people to run with the official runner. That was too bad, because if you aren’t allowed to hold it, it would be nice to pace with it.
Mind you, it looked like they were walking with it, not running. And you only get to hold it for 300 meters.
Then I continued on to my evening run at the Running Room. That run took us along the flame route and I saw the torch a second time.