30 SPECIAL YEARS; AN OLYMPIC CELEBRATION FOR COURAGEOUS ATHLETES.

Byline: Rizza Yap Daily News Staff Writer

A few years ago, during a Special Olympics summer games at UCLA, volunteer Linda Dahlgren cried.

A Southern California athlete, normally strapped to a wheelchair, decided to compete in the 10-meter race on her own two feet. She would fall on her gloved hands, pull herself back up and take a few more steps. She would fall again, get up and continue to walk. Crossing the finishing line was a draining ordeal, but she did it, urged by cheers from coaches and fellow athletes. Hardly anyone noticed that she had finished last. Nobody cared.

``I don't think there was a dry eye in the entire stadium after that race,'' said Dahlgren, an Encino resident and fourth-year volunteer with the Tri-Valley Special Olympics. ``Just the idea of her getting up whenever she fell - you don't see that too often in sports. She was just looking to finish, and you see that, and you're glad to be there.''

A few years ago, during a Special Olympics summer games at UCLA, volunteer Lynn Westlund held her breath.

A Southern California athlete, strapped on a gurney, decided to compete in the 10-meter race. He wheeled himself all the way across the finish line, a memory of true determination seared in Westlund's mind. A blessing.

``One of the reasons why I'm so committed to this (program) is very selfish, because the athletes give back so much. They bring me such joy,'' said Westlund, the Tri-Valley area coordinator. ``They remind me and show me that I am capable of anything if I put my mind to it.''

The other day, on a simmering afternoon in Reseda, 20-year-old athlete Mindy Zazanis sat cozily in her living room, her bare feet - toe nails painted in bright peach - dangling off the couch. On the coffee table rested three medals, neatly lined up according to color. Two are bronze, for her performance on the vault, her favorite gymnastics apparatus, and the uneven bars. The gold is for her 9.0 performance on the floor exercise. The Miller High senior-to-be earned all three in last month's Special Olympics Southern California summer games at UCLA. Etched on the medals are two figures, a woman and man running together, holding a single torch. Etched below them are four words: Skill, courage, sharing, joy - ingredients that have made the Special Olympics an awe-inspiring tradition for three decades.

On Monday, Special Olympics celebrates its 30th anniversary. On that day Muhammad Ali will welcome athletes in Chicago, where in 1968 a thousand men, women and children gathered at Soldier Field to participate in the first-ever Special Olympics World Games. The date launches a yearlong celebration of past and present athletes, of the runners who fell but got up and kept going, of those who wheeled themselves to the finish line and of the 450 Tri-Valley athletes like Zazanis, who year after year make themselves and their parents blush with pride.

The concept began with a woman, when Eunice Kennedy Shriver initiated in her backyard a day camp for 100 children with mental retardation. Her son, Tim Shriver, now leads the organization, which has spread to more than 145 countries, 1 million athletes, 500,000 volunteers and 15,000 events each year. Special Olympics, a program of year-round sports training and competition, has a chapter in 25,000 U.S. communities and features athletes from age 8 to 88, including those who need care and those who can take care of themselves.

In the Tri-Valley, area games are held each year at Glendale High. Southern California summer games often take place at UCLA, although next year's is scheduled at Long Beach State. The next step is trying to qualify for the World Games. The next one, to be hosted by North Carolina, will take place in 1999. Not many will move on to international competition. California alone features such a huge amount of participants that state games had to be split in two - one for Southern and the other for Northern.

But the opportunity to participate in local competition is rewarding enough for most athletes, like 10-year Canoga Park resident Bill Gunn. The youthful looking 55-year-old - ``It must be in the genes because my mom's 75, and she looks 21'' - said competing in bowling and equestrian events have opened doors to a more active lifestyle.

Since joining the Tri-Valley chapter two years ago, Gunn, who assists his coaches by helping the younger athletes, has devoted Saturday mornings to bowling practice and Saturday afternoons to horseback riding. During the week, three days are set aside for early morning workouts at a local health club.

``When you sit, you get lazy, and I didn't want to do that,'' Gunn said during an afternoon visit to AMF Rocket Lanes in Chatsworth, his regular practice venue. ``(Being in Special Olympics) makes me a better person. It makes me feel good, and I can show my appreciation toward somebody else by helping them.''

For others, Special Olympics offers an escape from the harshness of the real world.

Kay Hinchcliffe, a volunteer of 26 years, still remembers the first state games she attended in 1972. She remembers because aside from the growing numbers, there haven't been many changes over the decades. It still offers the only atmosphere for unconditional respect.

``The philosophy is, `What you can do, be proud of it and celebrate,' ,'' Hinchliffe, a family therapist, said. ``When I go to the games or the dances, I would never do in the outside world some of the things I do there. I sing louder, I dance wilder, because they (the athletes) are so very, very accepting.

``And I've seen them grow up, some have gotten married, a couple have had children. There are also tragedies, but I have had tons and tons of laughs.''

For information about joining Tri-Valley Special Olympics as an athlete, volunteer or much-needed coach, call Kathy Sessinghaus at the chapter office at [phone]. Aside from annually held state and area games, various tournaments are conducted throughout the year.

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PHOTO (Color) Special Olympics athlete Mindy Zazanis, 20, shows off her gymnastics medal with parents Nancy and Frank at their Reseda home.

Hans Gutknecht/Daily News