GETTING TORCHED. Right up until the eve before, I was ambivalent about driving a short two miles north to watch the Olympic Torch Relay pass Jan. 6. I can't quite put my finger on the source of my misgivings. This usually means that a number of factors are at work, breeding cynicism, dimming interest. Commercialization of the 44-state Torch Relay and a barrage of TV and newspaper coverage both seemed to exploit Games that have had more than their share of difficulties, including Salt Lake City, in recent years. All the reasons ran together in my mind, but, in the end, I went because I sensed in the torch something bigger than life, something that unified people and dreams and transcended real and imagined Olympic problems. I stayed away from the hoopla, media focus and speeches in downtown Flint and, instead, watched the torch and massive entourage near home. It was an excellent choice. I'd no idea who and how many people would show up to watch, and felt a mix of pleasure, awe and giddiness as I joined hundreds of others lining both curbs as far as I could see. Safe to say only the Crim races attract similar crowds in Flint. What I saw in a moment, but first, unsolicited impressions from two friends and a friend-of-a-friend from Ohio who've agreed to let me share their torch feelings: Ted Hilleary, from Jackson, got to carry the torch in Detroit. Nobody doesn't like Ted, so it's no surprise he was nominated and selected to wear Olympic white and carry the torch high. "It was very, very exciting," Ted said. "The other torch bearers and our support runners were nice people, all with interesting personal inspirational stories and equally excited as me. When I stepped off the shuttle bus for my segment, 17 members of my family were there for the most-gratifying support experience of my life. It ain't every day you have a cheering section with such enthusiasm and love. "They all took a lot of pictures but had to tell me to slow down. I was so pumped and excited I was almost into a sprint, running away from my family. Many pictures with the torch and family were taken afterward. A little girl in the parking lot, a stranger, asked to have her picture taken with me. I was deeply touched that this event, and I, were important to her. This is a memory to cherish the rest of my life." Detroit Free Press Marathon director Pat Ball lives in Ann Arbor. The relay passed right by her home Jan. 7 and she sent this stirring message to friends minutes later: "While sitting in my pajamas in my office working, I noticed people gathering along the sidewalk on Stadium (Blvd). I remembered what day it was, so I quickly dressed and grabbed my camera. I found a spot not directly next to any one person (as I knew I wouldn't be able to contain my emotions and others might not understand my sobbing) and away I clicked. "I was the only person jumping up and down, screaming and yelling and cheering (the runner) on. Bergen (Pat's son) would've been so embarrassed. The runner got so excited that she started jumping up and down and waving. What an awesome sight to see the passing of the torch. Are we not so blessed to have these incredible gifts to share?" A mile west of Pat, Ann Arbor Pioneer High let out students to watch the torch round the corner at Michigan Stadium. My son, Jeff, got to see the runner for just a moment, but said it was, "Pretty cool." Alynn Chezem, who lives in Cincinnati, was selected to run in Portsmouth, 100 miles east along the Ohio River. "As I stood with my fellow torch bearers preparing to board our shuttle buses, I got a taste of what the rest of the day would be like," Alynn remembered. "We were next to the major highway into town and all of the truckers honked their horns for us. As we waved back, more and more trucks and cars honked. "We rode the shuttle to our insertion points along the main road into town. Hundreds of people lined the street. As soon as they realized that we were part of the relay, people pointed, picked their kids up so they could see, and flashbulbs started. I was a rock star. "And the big moment, I was next! I got off the shuttle and the rest is a blur. I remember my sister and mother crying and hugging me. I remember seeing my father with the video camera. I remember 'Billy the Gas Man' riding up on his motorcycle and turning on the gas in my torch. I remember Bill saying something about how I was the only one in the whole world who would be carrying the flame at that moment and about the responsibility that goes with it. "All of a sudden, I had the flame and a big grin on my face. A big media truck in front of me had TV cameras and photographers shooting away. I remember thinking my torch had gone out ... and being told I needed to carry the torch higher or it would set my hair on fire. Didn't realize my segment was uphill and didn't recognize most of my family and friends until they were hugging me after it was over. "The best thing about the experience was that I was able to share it with so many friends and family. It meant so much to me to have them travel from so far away for my special day." Along Bristol Road in Flint, energized spectators waved hundreds of tiny American flags as the torch approached. To my right, I watched a runner trot up to the exchange point. Any misgivings I might've had vanished as a new torch was placed into a holder aboard a motorized wheelchair. As the chair started up, a roar spread down the street as the female relayer, minus one arm and both legs, rolled slowly by. Boy, I got caught up wishing she could go many times the designated distance of .2 miles. I felt warm, happy, positive, really positive. Watched the torch move along another minute, then headed off for a quiet run. Despite regular Olympic controversies and scandal, we remain attracted to the Games with their warts, foibles, compelling competition and all else that's splendid. The Torch Relay came to us, letting us touch it ... and be touched.