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Honolulu Lite
This race was no
walk in the park
Charles Memminger is on vacation. We will be running some of his favorite columns from the early days of Honolulu Lite. This column first appeared on April 14, 1992.STANDING in the middle of Wahiawa at 7 in the morning, waiting for the start of the 10K Pineapple Run, reminded me of why I hate runners.
First of all, I was there to walk, not run. I'm convinced that running is bad if you do a great deal of it. I don't know of anyone who runs who doesn't suffer from a bad back, wrecked knees or an insufferable ego.
And I was hungry. So I went into the 7-Eleven and bought a cheeseburger and a bottle of orange juice. Since I was about to lumber 6.7 miles, I figured I better fuel up.
So I was standing there enjoying the cheeseburger, watching everybody cram together at the starting line and getting stares from some people jogging by. The way they were looking at me, you'd think I was shooting up heroin.
Then this guy comes up and says, "Hey, are you going to run after eating that cheeseburger? A guy died in the Honolulu Marathon after eating a cheeseburger."
I said, "Was it a 7-Eleven cheeseburger?" I figured, maybe he had just gotten a bad cheeseburger. Runners die all the time, but you rarely hear of anyone passing away after eating a 7-Eleven cheeseburger.
The guy sort of sniffed at my question and went jogging away. What a show off. I mean, when you are about to run 6.7 miles, you don't have to RUN to the starting line.
The race started and the huge pack of people surged forward. I waited for them to depart, then began walking, enjoying the cool, still morning. It was great until I found myself behind a guy with an enormous butt. I sped up and passed him because I wasn't going to follow that for the next hour or so.
I felt good, but the cheeseburger remark was bothering me. I realized I didn't really know what effect a cheeseburger could have on someone walking nearly seven miles. Maybe I'd seize up at mile five and roll over in a ditch. It would be mentioned the next day in the newspaper story about the race, after all the winning times: "On a sad note, a guy died at mile five. He had eaten a cheeseburger just before the race. Can you believe it? What a knucklehead."
As it turned out, the cheeseburger was not the problem. Spit was. All runners spit. But until you follow several hundred of them you cannot appreciate the quantity of their excretion. It was like walking through a mine field, trying to avoid all the wet spots. When I got to the mile one marker, I asked one of the race organizers if she could call ahead on her walkie-talkie and tell the guys in front to quit spitting so much.
Overall, the walk was pleasant, with beautiful views of the Waianae range. The air was crisp and clear. As I approached the finish line I went into a trot to make it look like I had actually run the race. But with a 1:40 finishing time, no one was fooled.
That's when I noticed the guy with the big butt. He was already picking up his pineapple, which all finishers got as a trophy. I know I'm not the fastest thing on two feet but I swear that guy had not passed me. He apparently didn't walk the whole way and he was claiming his pineapple! The things some people will do for fruit.
I took my pineapple and headed for the 7-Eleven. Who knows, maybe I could trade it for a pack of chips.
Charles Memminger, winner of
National Society of Newspaper Columnists
awards in 1994 and 1992, writes "Honolulu Lite"
Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Write to him at the Honolulu Star-Bulletin,
P.O. Box 3080, Honolulu, 96802
or send E-mail to cmemminger@starbulletin.com.
The Honolulu Lite online archive is at:
https://archives.starbulletin.com/lite