THE line between being sporty and insane is a thin one. I know. I ran up Poole’s Constitution Hill last weekend, although the word “run” may be an exaggeration. Before halfway I was crawling like a toad, crying like a distressed seagull and moving at a velocity that may have suggested I’d passed away.

I won’t speculate on which side of that line the cyclists fall who will be taking part in the Hovis Gold Hill Honk in June, pedalling up the famously wicked incline in defiance of gravity and sense but just hope a trick-cyclist team will be waiting to greet them at the top.

But as the Olympic year nears, taking part in sport is becoming infectious. And there is something that warms the cockles of your shorts in knowing that the Olympic torch will be passing through Bournemouth.

I was never a big Seb Coe fan in his running days (preferring his maverick rival Ovett) and found Coe a tad arrogant when he was an MP.

And after London won the bid to stage the Olympic Games a few years back, I suspected Lord Coe, chairman of our organising committee, was heading for the high jump.

The Beijing Games had been impressive and then economic gloom cast a shadow over the UK. The result in 2012, I feared, might be a gold for ‘Team GB’ in Cringing with Embarrassment.

Not any more. Coe and co seem to be doing an awesome job. Top marks to them.

Our Olympic preparations – in London and Portland – are going swimmingly, the nation’s warming up nicely, our stars look on track to peak at the right time and now the Olympic torch is even heading our way.

I don’t know the exact route the torch relay will take but should Lord Coe be looking for an old stager to carry it up Constitution Hill in 2012, I’m ready to answer the call.

Just drop me a line, Lord Coe. But don’t expect me to get to the top before 2016.