Fun reigns again at 20th Great Aloha Run
| Abdalah, Smith set pace |
| Photo gallery |
By Vicki Viotti
Advertiser Staff Writer
The gun went off and everyone shrieked.
And this year the size of the crowd on the 20th anniversary run was also pretty startling. The company that times the race, Timers Plus Hawaii, said nearly 20,000 people finished the event yesterday, running, walking or pushing strollers along the 8.1-mile course, starting at Aloha Tower and ending at Aloha Stadium. The traffic for those on foot, and especially those unlucky enough to be caught on choked feeder streets along the route, was overwhelming.
Army Pfc. Tom Gunter and wife Billi, from Schofield Barracks had no point of reference, this being their first Great Aloha experience. At this time last year Billi was fresh from delivering young Christian, who reclined in the jogging stroller between them.
Many military commanders consider participation mandatory.
"He has to do it," Billi said. "And I thought if I come, he could run with me and do this as a family."
One nonparticipant, who asked not to be named for fear of being trampled by 20,000 pairs of shoes, scoffed at the event, which he described as a "nonrunner's run."
It's true. The Great Aloha Run is described more kindly as an Everyman's race, and there are those ambling along with teddy-bear backpacks and walking sticks, those who make it an annual test of will and then never run again for the rest of the year.
But there are, in fact, real runners, the kind with T-shirts urging everyone to "Go Hard, or Go Home."
Kalid Abdalah, 24, of Berkeley, Calif., won the men's race for the second year in a row, and Chelsea Smith, 19, of Spokane, Wash., won the women's race.
Abdalah, a nursing student at the College of Alameda, finished in 40 minutes, 54 seconds.
Smith, a sophomore at Brigham Young University-Hawai'i and the NCAA Division II cross country champion, finished in 47:49.
Racers like Abdalah and Smith hit the finish line in the cool of the morning. But not everyone is such a gazelle, and a few found it much harder than expected. Kalihi Kai Fire Station's ladder company was nursing someone through exhaustion about a half-hour along, and there had also been at least one ambulance call by then.
Some people know precisely what to expect. Cindi Flating of Waikiki had enrolled in Dr. Christiane Christ's training clinic to prepare for her second Great Aloha Run. Amy Tawata of Kalaheo, Kaua'i, has come every year since 1992, and she comes prepared. This year, her getup included a broad-brimmed hat.
"It's for the sun," Tawata said, and then acknowledged the cloudy sky with a heavenward glance.
"It's going to get sunny later on," she added, with an authoritative tone. And it did.
The first thirst-aid station is at about the 3-mile mark, beneath the airport viaduct, and the carpet of crumpled paper cups lay there as proof that folks were thirsty. The long lines at the port-a-potties proved that others were not.
A first-aid station stood there, too, thanks to the 13th Battalion Aid Station from Marine Corps Base Hawai'i at Kane'ohe Bay. The first patient of the morning: The Advertiser reporter, who in a moment of inattention about a mile back had been run down by a stroller. Petty Officer Micah King daubed a pair of skinned knees with hydrogen peroxide and sent the reporter on her way.
There were school bands and even Kenny Endo's taiko drummers to keep spirits up, but the chattiness abated noticeably as miles 5 and 6 ticked by. High school cheerleader-types shouted encouragement from the sidelines; a radio disc jockey, more inclined toward truth in advertising, ordered the runners to "keep on going it's farther than it looks."
But the finish line ultimately appeared, with the time clock delivering the news of performance for those who care about such things.
Scott Souza of Kailua cared. The burden of a desk job had cut into his training time, he said.
Others, like Tawata, are in it for good times, if not a good running time. "My only exercise of the year!" she confessed with a laugh. "It's fun! The bands are playing ... and I like seeing everybody run past me."
A pause.
"Well, not really," she admitted. Nobody likes to be last, not even the nonrunners.
Reach Vicki Viotti at vviotti@honoluluadvertiser.com or 525-8053.