THE 13th Great Aloha Run is history but it made an impression on me. Security flaws left
Aloha Run not so greatThe cheery organizers of this race - who inflate their participation figures every year to keep up appearances - will call it another success. I don't suppose they want to know about the troubling things I saw from the back of the press truck yesterday.
But I'm going to lay out my observations.
Before I do, let me clear up something.
There were not 25,000 runners in yesterday's event. The real prerace registration figure was 17,311 and 15,044 actually finished, according to figures given me last night by Carole Kai Onouye after much discussion.
She insists that the several thousand military personnel who run in formation should be counted as competitors in the general field.
I say no. The U.S.A. Road Running Information Center in Santa Barbara, Calif., says no.
The formations are solid, they move well and their cadence sounds good. But they start earlier than the main field and they're involved in a different competition. Not a single living creature can penetrate their ranks.
And that's why they don't belong in road races, taking up three quarters of the width of a highway like Nimitz, forcing other runners to disrupt their stride and squeeze around them.
I've always believed that in a well-organized road race, the road belongs to the runner.
Quite a concept, huh?
If the perils of the two lead runners from Africa were any indication of the norm at the Great Aloha Run, there's a serious problem with course security.
At the 11/2-mile mark, seven - count 'em - seven morons found it very easy to jump from the median strip right on to the course behind the leaders. No one stopped them.
They had a good time mocking Ethiopian Tesfaye Bekele and Moroccan Rachid Tbahi, waving their arms and exaggerating their stride, within an arm's length of the pair. Luckily, the incident lasted only a few seconds because the runners were traveling a lot faster than the thought processes of their hecklers.
I've covered foot races in a bunch of cities since the 1970s and I can tell you that's not a good sign for elite, middle-of-the-field or back-of-the-field runners.
Where was the police escort leaders usually get in races of this size? There was none.
Bekele said he could have used one to help him find the finish.
I saw people wandering at will onto the course throughout the race.
Women's winner Sylvia Fisher told me she was grateful to the man who helped clear a path for her through the constantly converging crowds. How could she run her best under those conditions?
Where is the security?
I saw a young lady with a backpack casually stroll directly across Bekele's path as he was accelerating away from Tbahi between the fourth and fifth miles. A collision between bodies when one is moving at sub-5-minute foot speed would be an ugly sight.
Where is the security?
Two cops were standing nearby when that woman crossed.
Hundreds of runners jumped onto the course from a variety of angles at the start of the race. It was the most chaotic start I've ever witnessed, and kind of scary.
For some reason, the Honolulu Marathon does not have these problems. The start is orderly. Course crashing is regarded as a serious offense. Runners are given the right of way.
Even with a mostly foreign field, you have to like the way it's pulled off each year.
The Great Aloha Run organizers might do well to emulate the disciplines of the marathon before tragedy strikes.