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olympic torch

In 2001, Hubby and I got married.  If that wasn’t momentous enough, 29 days after our wedding, I ran with the Olympic torch.

I didn’t cry at the wedding, I saved it for the entire 1/8 of a mile I was running with a butane flame.

The minute I stepped off the shuttle, the cold air hit my warm tears.  Every step brought along the visceral reactions associated with just how powerful the moment was for me.  When I saw my freshly minted family, along with friends gathered along Genesee Street to cheer me on, I started the bawling.  Crying with me, hubby and my new nephew, Lawrence; he thought I’d be running all the way to Salt Lake City.  He feared I was leaving him.

I’m usually not the crier.  Hubby, of passionate Italian-Irishman heritage, cries at cotton and pet commercials.  But that day, I remember the endless tears streaming down my face, these streamers of joy.  I had this realization that only in America could a daughter of immigrants carry a symbol of peace, unity, and sportsmanship through her newly adopted community of Utica, NY.  Only in this great country would this girl, who learned to speak English second to Mandarin-Chinese, be anchoring the evening news in a small town.  Only here in this diverse nation, far from her home in Los Angeles, would she be embraced by her new family, without reservations.

A decade later, hubby has since framed my torch, jogging set, and newspaper clippings.  It is such a source of unbridled exuberance when I see that collection of memories.  And as I prepare to watch the London Olympics, I’m returned to that one moment in time and reminded of the immense honor I had of carrying the Olympic torch.  Only in America!

Olympic Torch Run from Susan Tran on Vimeo.

(Video courtesy of Kelly Fuller/WKTV)

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2 Responses to “olympic torch”

  1. Katie says:

    Susan, this blog post is beautiful. Watching you cry made me cry! XOXO!

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