To Sur with, well, love
They are trickling into the conference room, the members of this diverse yet deeply bonded gathering. They all smell distinctly of Ben-Gay®. It’s been two days since the 2002 Big Sur International Marathon. Or maybe it’s been only one, depending on their race time. But they have somehow made their weary way to Community Hospital to celebrate finish lines, familiar and not-so familiar faces, and the fundamentals. Most of those in attendance started their training here, as participants in the hospital’s annual marathon clinics, part of our $33 million Community Benefit Program. They learned how to get ready and then how to gut it out. And on this night, nearly four months after the first session, they proudly parade their mettle. And their medals.
Chrissy Aynie, 27, Monterey
“Looking over at Point Sur and seeing the whales go by … From mile 16 or 17 until the end, it was all pain management. When I crossed that finish line and my husband grabbed me, I burst into tears.”
Gerry Reynolds, 52, Salinas
“At the gas station at the Highlands, I got leg cramps. I spent 
half an hour walking to the top of the last hill. I said, ‘No way am I going to walk through the finish line.’ And then there were my kids, who had gotten a fluorescent poster board and written on it, ‘I love you Daddy! Go Daddy!’ That helped me keep going. Then when I got to the finish line, I felt like I was the third guy in, with all the attention they paid to me. I just lost it. It was such an emotional experience.”
Julie Webster, 33, Monterey
“I’m a slow-poke marathoner. One good thing, there are no lines at the bathroom when you’re that slow. But I have that Big Sur medal now that makes me a marathoner. They can’t ever take that away.”
Lance Null, 34, Salinas
“I know what it looks like to see the truck coming to pick up the cones (because the race has been 
going on for so long). When I finally came over the crest of the hill, I could see them disassembling the finish line. I missed an official time by three minutes. I’m 6-foot, 240 pounds — on a good day — so I’m not built to be a runner. But the CHOMP training clinics helped me learn how to stay motivated. I will come back, and I will get an official time next year.”
Jason Grose, 33, Seaside
“Mile 22 was a kick in the pants. Up to that point, I was on a 3-hour-and-45-minute pace, 15 minutes faster than my goal of finishing in 4 hours, and feeling great. Somehow, I shot up Hurricane Point with the help of a strawberry Clif Shot® and was pacing out a comfortable run (as comfortable as running 22 miles can be, I guess). I had made it through some rough spots, but then I felt that gliding in was well within my ability.
“And then it happened.
“My legs decided that this foolishness had gone on long enough and that a message needed to be sent. The message, which was received loud and clear, came in the form of simultaneous cramps in both of my quads … I was raising my knees high in an effort to stave off the mutiny of my leg muscles when I noticed a total stranger, another racer, who had stopped on the side of the road and was looking at me.
“Then something wondrous occurred. Somehow she knew. Call it intuition, call it the unexplained link between marathoners, or call it a kinship of shared hardship, but she was somehow aware that I needed help and needed it quick … She mouthed something I did not hear and pulled out a bag of candy from her running pouch. I lumbered the two painful steps in her direction and thrust out my hand without shame, and she dropped what I found to be the most ironically appropriate items into my trembling hands. She gave me two LifeSavers®.” 