For the record, Sheila Bierwert admits to being frightened. Gravity isn't something you trifle with when you're hanging your hide off the roof of a building 315 feet above the ground.

But even though she said yes to the most extreme fundraiser Honolulu has ever seen — rappelling from the top of the Sheraton Waikiki to help raise $100,000 for Special Olympics Hawaii — the Hawaii Kai mother of four could already write the book on fear.

Try watching your oldest son battle uncontrollable seizures — every day, and he's only 4. Try listening to a doctor explain that the cure is removing some of his brain. And try figuring out what you'd say to him when the best thing in his life — a Special Olympics sports program — gets canceled for lack of funding.

Just as it would for hundreds of Hawaii athletes like Bierwert's son, Trevor, the loss of a competitive outlet offered by the Special Olympics would be crushing. But the nonprofit organization is so short of money this year that it might have to cancel its popular Holiday Classic.

The solution sounds as outrageous as it is extreme.

Over the Edge of Waikíkí will allow people who raise a minimum of $1,000 in pledges to rappel 31 stories — from the top of the beachfront hotel to a patio near the bar at its RumFire restaurant. More than 110 people have signed up for the Nov. 13 event.

All money raised will go to the Holiday Classic, which is usually held over three days in December but had to be scaled back to two days this year.

Bierwert's son always looks forward to the event. Special Olympics Hawaii is like a second family to the Bierwerts. Trevor practices once or twice a week, plus games.

"Trevor absolutely loves sports and this is what gives him a chance to play," his mother said. "Trevor is always going for the gold. He loves to compete."

Bierwert, a substitute teacher, has never done any rappelling. She doesn't even like to fly. She's raised $4,700, however. People have been generous, she said, but they often think she's crazy.

"Of course I am scared but Trevor, when we had to take him for brain surgery, that was scary," she said. "This is just a challenge. I will be scared for half an hour but other than that, why not? There is no reason not to do it if I can raise money like that."

Special Olympics Hawaii is banking on the event's originality. The concept, devised by a Canadian company in 2004, is popular on the Mainland, where 18 events have been scheduled or held since May and 45 are planned for next year. Ten of this year's fundraisers involve Special Olympics programs.

"I think in order to have a successful event in Hawaii, you have to do something that's a little crazy," said Nancy Bottelo, president and chief executive officer of Special Olympics Hawaii. "People get tired of the same black-tie affair and there are only so many you can go to."

ONGOING DEFICIT

The nonprofit, which has been in Hawaii since 1968, annually turns to a variety of events — people dunking themselves regularly in ice water, law enforcement officers bussing restaurant tables for tips and Honolulu cops spending several days on the roofs of Safeway stores while collecting donations from shoppers below.

But Special Olympics Hawaii has operated in the red for the past three years. In 2006 and 2007 it had a deficit of more than $120,000 each year, according to its tax records. It recovered last year, shrinking its deficit to $44,000.

Without a fourth-quarter windfall, the organization projects another $100,000 operating deficit — a situation that isn't expected to improve in 2010, an election year, Bottelo said. Recent corporate donations have not been great and fundraisers like the one that puts police officers on Safeways — the biggest fundraiser for Special Olympics Hawaii — fell $35,000 short this year.

"It wasn't that more people stopped giving," Bottelo said. "It was that more gave less."

To survive, the organization froze salaries and "we tightened our belts," Bottelo said. It also continued a practice it started in 2008: People who left were not replaced and the six-person staff is now half the size. The staff also decided against matching contributions to their 401(k) plans.

Bottelo is convinced that Over the Edge of Waikíkí will raise $75,000. Some of it will come from her husband of 37 years, Buddy.

"My husband has been passing out fliers on the street," Bottelo said. "He got the gal at Starbucks to give him $10 when he bought coffee from her."

No experience is needed to take part in the rappel, said Paul Griffith, president and chief executive officer of Over the Edge. Participants receive a short lesson closer to the ground before they step off the roof and expert rope handlers will monitor their progress, Griffith said.

His company — which only works with nonprofit organizations, at $24,500 a pop — has a perfect safety record, he said. And a $10 million liability insurance plan.

"We have full control over the descent rate, where they go and how fast they go," he said. "They are pretty safe up there."

Those who take part will belong to an exclusive group, Griffith said.

"I think it is almost like a badge of honor," he said. "It's a pretty exclusive group that gets to do this. This is pretty adventurous and pretty unique."

'A GOOD RUSH'

All that sounds pretty cool until you look over the edge of the Sheraton Waikiki roof. It's a gut-check moment that puts a hollow in your stomach and a wobble in your knees. The view may stretch from Diamond Head to 'Ewa Beach, but it's the beachgoers below that catch your eye. They look like ants.

If you fell, you'd have about four seconds to ponder that.

Still, the folks taking the risk for charity plan to rappel with chutzpah.

Barry Whitfield, who oversees safety at Tesoro Hawaii's refinery at Campbell Industrial Park, believes the risk involved makes it easier to raise money. He and seven other Tesoro employees raised more than $7,000 in four days, helped in part by dollar-for-dollar matching from Tesoro.

The 56-year-old Whitfield rappelled when he was younger and serving in the Australian military. It's different now, he said.

"It's a completely different perspective on your own mortality," he said. "I am looking forward to it, but I know when I get close to the edge, it is a long way down no matter what your experience is. I know it is going to be a good rush."

Cheryl Ebisui didn't hesitate to sign up. She's a special education teacher and has coached Special Olympics athletes for six years. The program gives them self-confidence and social skills.

"I am definitely doing this for the kids," she said. "It is nice to see them standing on the podium after an event. They feel proud of themselves."

The 30-year-old Ebisui, who said she leads "a pretty boring life," will be the first person to rappel.

"I want to get it over (with) before I see the other people going down," she said. "I might get scared and not do it."