It was one of those golden, unforgettable moments that you carry with you for the rest of your life. I was honoured to be an Olympic torchbearer on the first day of the run and, while I've seen a lot in a long career, been to all parts of the country and around much of the world, this was something special.

When I stepped onto the shuttle bus taking us to our individual drop-off positions for our separate runs, I was hailed with cheers and high-fives by my other nine torchbearer colleagues. There was an immediate feeling of community and friendliness aboard the bus; we were all part of a great adventure and happy to be sharing it together.

We were encouraged to talk about why we wanted to be one of the 12,000 Canadians who will hold the torch high right across the land. Many of the accounts were personal and deeply moving. Some talked about running in the memory of a late family member, and others said they wanted to be a part of something bigger than themselves. Quite a few became misty eyed when they talked about Canada and what it meant to them. I would take the flame from an aboriginal schoolteacher from Ladysmith, B.C. She was worried about being close to tears when she finally started running with the torch in her hand.

After my partner was dropped off at her location, the next stop was my own. It was at an intersection on Beacon Street, the main thoroughfare in the beautiful Sidney By the Sea on Vancouver Island, about a half hour drive from Victoria. The moment I stepped from the bus, the action began. In these moments before my run began, people were drawn to the torch, still to be lit, asking to have pictures taken with it, talking with pride about their country and their town.

One elderly woman walked slowly towards me from across the street. With her eyes fixed upon the torch she asked just to touch it. By all means, I said and after a moment and with her eyes clouding with tears she thanked me and walked away, only to return five minutes later to ask if she could have a picture with it.

For the next fifteen minutes, while I waited for my schoolteacher friend to meet up with me and hand off the flame, the scene resembled a church picnic. Parents came with children and small babies, seniors chatted away amiably with me and the others, longtime residents met newcomers to the community -- and all the camaraderie was circled around the torch.

Then came the moment of handoff and the "kissing of the torches" where I placed the top of my torch to the flame of the preceding runner and took the fire. As I turned to run, there was loud applause and cheers all around -- and throughout the 300 metres, which seemed to take no time at all, I was just another of the more than a hundred runners on that first day of the cross-country relay, greeted with joyful celebration and thrilled to be participating in such a singular life experience.

One enduring impression sticks with me. We are not demonstrative about it but Canadians love this country and we show it in simple but meaningful ways. Watch for the torch run to be a glorious pageant of patriotism and national pride.