Charity event takes all kinds
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By Vicki Viotti
Advertiser Staff Writer
Once a year, O'ahu wakes up extra early and descends on downtown Honolulu, not for work but a workout. For many in the crowd of 17,000 or so, yesterday's 21st annual Great Aloha Run was their first, so it's a workout to remember.
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Shortly before the 7 a.m. gun set the runners on the 8.1-mile course, first-timer Lon Kamanu and his girlfriend, Susannah Rice, became sandwiched in with the starting-line throng.
Members of the Honolulu Fire Department appear in a jovial mood at the starting gate of the 21st Annual Great Aloha Run.
"I've done a 5K ... once!" said Rice, who has been a wheelchair user since 1991. She looked mildly concerned about what she had signed up for here.
Kamanu stood behind her, but swore he wasn't going to bail her out by pushing. "We're just going to go at our own pace," he said with a cheerful grin. Rice grinned, too.
"I'm going to put him in my lap," she said.
Great Aloha Runners and walkers come in all shapes and sizes, some propelling wheeled transport, most on soon-to-be aching feet, and soon become swept into the festive atmosphere. There's someone singing the national anthem over there. Over here, a Honolulu Fire Department recruit class does a group huddle ending in a roaring cheer.
That communal excitement is a hallmark of each year's charity event; it's what gets some people into running, what brings many of them back year after year.
Jeff Widener The Honolulu Advertiser
"It's always an overwhelming experience," said Honolulu resident Dale Matsumoto, trooping down to the starting line with her buddies Vanessa Smith, Carol Ogata and Mari Fukuya. "It's the whole feeling ... there's no other race like this."
Military personnel brought their unit colors to the race.
An army of volunteers enlist to make it all work. Navy Petty Officer 2nd Class Maria Riley and 3-year-old daughter, Kirsten, were part of the stroller corps at the Alakea-Merchant intersection, where play equipment had been set up.
"We keep them occupied, and out of the way!" said Marcus Young, a stroller-brigade volunteer with the charity organization Lima Kokua.
The Great Aloha Run has served as a kind of everyman's and everywoman's event, something most people can at least survive, but it attracts its share of elite athletes, too. Sue Forbes-Kitakawa, a Moloka'i resident who has finished among the swiftest in triathlons and other events, flexed and stretched near the start, shedding a warmup jacket and pitching it onto a median strip where it soon would be trampled.
The gun sounded. Forbes-Kitakawa powered her way through the sardine-can massing of the racers and was gone. Others set off at a more languid pace until the crowd thinned, gabbing and laughing amiably. A unit of Ke Kula Maka'i police recruits chanted those cadences that uniformed forces love so much:
Up at dawn with the rising sun
Gonna run until the race is done.
Eight miles, NO SWEAT!
Seven miles, NO SWEAT! ...
The chatter tailed off gradually, replaced with huffing, puffing and terse "Excuse me!" interjections from runners picking their way through pockets of space. Increasingly, the loudest noise came from myriad helpers serving as sideline cheering squads, and from various school bands playing songs popular long before many of the runners were born. "In the Mood." "Tequila." Peppy dance numbers from bygone eras.
Loudest, and maybe most uplifting of all, were the Kenny Endo taiko drummers at one of the Nimitz aid stations beneath the freeway viaduct. Everyone was about to emerge into the final, unshaded stretch, so they needed as much encouragement as possible. In the hot morning sun, each cup of water runners toss back seemingly gets wicked up directly to the sweat glands.
So everyone greedily sucked down the bottles of water and cups of Gatorade and the bread and oranges available once they reached the promised land of Aloha Stadium. The hordes are herded across the finish line and around to claim their shirts and refreshments. High-school student volunteers were having their fun.
"We're just making it funny for the runners," she explained.
Down the way, Mel Wong and Marcia Tagavilla collected empty water bottles as a Moanalua High School senior class fund-raiser.
"Maybe we should do a dance," Wong said, and added a little wiggle to her shout: "Bring your empty water bottles here!"
"Well, that was a full bottle, but that's OK," said Tagavilla with a shrug as one donation plopped into the box.
The most refreshment of all came from the sight of the finish line as runners pounded down the concourse into the stadium.
"Ooooh, I'm not even tired now!" exulted Secca Tanuvasa. "This is the all-star game, right here!"
Tanuvasa, 32, had indeed played football back at Kaimuki High, but this was his first long race.
But not his last.
"I'm going to do it again," he said. "Definitely."
Reach Vicki Viotti at vviotti@honoluluadvertiser.com or 525-8053.