No Heartbreak in Hills for This Record-Holder : L.A. Marathon: Wheelchair champion Badid takes full advantage of route’s topography.

Moustapha Badid knows something about marathons that few people know. Badid, the holder of the world marathon record in the wheelchair division, understands that hilly courses--the more hills the better--are conducive to fast times for wheelchair racers.

Badid, the Frenchman who won in the Los Angeles Marathon’s wheelchair division last year, will return to defend his title March 3. And, he says, he will capitalize on his intimate knowledge of the course, particularly the undulating hills that are so deceptive.

“My speed gives me that chance to beat them on the hills like in Boston, and in L.A.,” Badid said from Austin, Tex., where he is training. “If it’s a flat race, that’s not as good. It’s not a few hills (in Los Angeles), it’s all-the-time hills.”

Badid set his world record of 1 hour 29 minutes at Boston last year, a time that would be unheard of for the able-bodied runners. Boston, with its notorious Heartbreak Hill--actually a series of three hills--is difficult for runners. But, Badid said, the hills are perfect for wheelchair athletes.

“Of course, you must be strong enough to get up the hill,” he said. “But if you are, you can use the down side to really get speed. In L.A. where there are many small hills, this is very nice.”

Wheelchair athletes use the downslopes to build momentum for getting up the next grade. For runners, though, downhills are particularly hard on the knees and not much of a tactical aid.

Badid is among about 100 racers expected in the men’s wheelchair division. Also in the race are Jim Knaub of Long Beach, the 1989 L.A. winner, and Kenny Carnes of Morningside, Md., who beat Knaub in winning the 1990 Honolulu Marathon. Badid’s time of 1:45:40 is the course record.

In the women’s chair race will be Ann Cody-Morris of Champaign, Ill., last year’s winner; Connie Hansen of Denmark, runner-up last year, and veteran Candace Cable, a five-time Boston Marathon winner.

According to Bob Molinati, the race coordinator for the wheelchair division, the L.A. course is tougher than it might first appear.

“I see Los Angeles breaking up into three stages,” Molinati said. “The early portion is toughest for the wheelchairs. We’ve got the most torn up part of the city to deal with, and lots of turns. Potholes and turns slow chairs down.

“You have the highest point at seven miles, City Hall Hill, and you hit it with no momentum at all. That should be the point, if there is any riffraff, that is where they will be dropped.

“Stage 2 is probably the quickest part of the course, the rolling hills on Sunset. This is where the guys kick up their speed. They average 17-19 m.p.h. On the downhills they might kick up to 25 m.p.h. The uphills aren’t so severely long that you slow down that much.

“The third stage is from miles 20-26. These are very deceptive miles. The chairs will carry a lot of speed and there is a tendency to get carried away. People will pay at this point. Then, at the finish, they make a left into the Coliseum parking lot. You think you are home, and you’re not. It’s a long sprint--over a quarter of a mile.”

Badid is well-suited for a sprint at the finish. He is also the world record-holder at 1,500 meters and won the 1,500 exhibition race at the 1988 Seoul Olympics. Because there is more opportunity at longer distances for wheelchair racers, Badid has been forced to compete outside his comfort zone.

“First, I’m a good sprinter,” he said. “I have to train to be a good marathoner. Competition is tougher in the marathon than in the sprints. I don’t have the confidence.”

Badid, whose parents are from Algeria, said that in France he’s finally becoming known as a good athlete, rather than a good disabled athlete.

“The people know me, because in France to have guys in wheelchairs, it’s very strange,” Badid said. “The education of the people is not that good. They see people in wheelchairs as needing help.

“Now, I win some races, and the mentality of the French people has improved a lot. They saw me more on the TV and in the newspaper. I win. They remember this image. When I go around, people recognize me. I am not a star, but they know me.”

Badid won’t give himself credit for opening the door for wheelchair athletes in France, although others do.

“I’m not sure exactly,” he said. “People say to me that it helps. But I know since 1988, these sports for disabled in France has improved. More are people doing it.

Badid, 25, has goals that seem little different from those of the rest of the world’s athletes. He wants to win, he wants to set records, and he wants to be around a long time.

“My goal is to go to the Olympic Games of 2000,” he said.