Be Bold. Be Brief. Be Gone.

Remembering Major Megan McClung and others who paid the ultimate sacrifice

May 27, 2024

I was born on traditional Memorial Day, May 30th. In my child brain, I thought the picnics and gatherings were about me and my birthday, even if we had to go to cemeteries to remember loved ones.

Decoration Day originated during the Civil War when citizens would place flowers on the graves of the fallen on May 30th. The name was changed to Memorial Day after World War I.

In 1971, Memorial Day became a national holiday on the fourth Monday in May.

Memorial Day is a time to pay homage and remember the sacrifice of those who have been killed in action serving our country. I’ve never known the heartbreak of having a loved one killed in action. Or getting the dreaded knock on the door by a uniformed member of the service.

Today I want to tell you about my marathon guardian angel Megan McClung.1

Marine Corps Major Megan McClung was a Naval Academy graduate, triathlete, and accomplished marathoner. She served with the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force during Operation Iraqi Freedom as a Public Affairs Officer in Al Anbar province.

On December 6, 2006, during the last month of her year-long deployment, Megan was the first female Marine officer killed in action. An improved explosive device (IED) blew up the Humvee she and three other Marines were riding in while accompanying Newsweek journalists.

Honor, courage and commitment are not gender-specific attributes.
Master Gunnery Sgt. John Cordero

As a member of the Women Marines Association, I had long admired Megan’s legacy. An avid runner, she had organized and served as the race director for the first Marine Corps Marathon (Forward) in Iraq coinciding with the October 2006 event.

I was also humbled by her sacrifice. A common refrain from veterans is that they wrote a blank check made payable to "The United States of America," for an amount of "up to, and including my life.”

The country cashed Megan’s check.

Prior to the 2015 Marine Corps Marathon, I wanted to pay respects to my Marine sister. Arlington National Cemetary’s Section 60 is where the fallen from Iraq and Afghanistan are buried. Megan is buried at Site 8514.

At her gravesite, I Iightly touched her tombstone and silently asked her to be with me during the marathon. I’d been diligent about logging miles, but the longest distance I’d run had been 18 miles. I struggled with bronchitis and a wicked blister on my heel. I didn’t think I could do it alone.

“Megan was the marathoner, not me. She should be here running instead of me,” I said, my emotion and tears building.

“Megan will be with you. You can do this,” my partner hugged and assured me.

I wasn’t so sure but collected myself while my partner laid a 40th Annual Marine Corps Marathon challenge coin on Megan’s white marble grave marker.

Marathon day dawned and I woke with quiet confidence that I had done my homework; if I started slowly and ran my race, I would finish.

Spirits were high as 30,000 runners settled into place at the starting line. With a canon blast, we were off.

As I shuffled forward with the rest of the back of the packers. The adrenaline rush made it hard not to try to keep up with faster runners.

Run your race, put one foot in front of the other, I kept reminding myself, listening for the vibration and audible beeps that reminded me to either walk or run. That’s the only way you’ll beat the bridge and make it through the 26.2 miles.

It was motivating seeing the throngs of people holding funny signs and Marines lining the route shouting “You can do it.” I soaked it all in and pinched myself. Reality was certainly sweeter than any dream could have been.

Wounded warriors running in prosthetic legs and operating adaptive hand cycles inspired and motivated me. I have nothing to complain about.

Around Mile 4 a younger female runner pulled up on my side and asked, “Are you doing run/walk intervals?”

“Yes, 30 seconds running and 30 seconds walking,” I said.

“Would you mind if I ran with you? I started training and life got away from me so 10 or 12 miles is the farthest I’ve ever run. If I don’t pace myself, I won’t finish.”

“Sure,” I said half-heartedly. On one hand it would be great to have someone to talk to. On the other hand, I always ran alone listening to music. But I felt her sincerity and appreciation for the opportunity to pace herself.

“I’m old and I run slow,” I warned. “If I’m holding you back, you’ve got to go for it and run your race.”

“Okay, if I feel that way, I’ll go on ahead,” she said.

We settled into a 30 second run, 30 second walk rhythm with casual conversation thrown in.

When I asked my running friend her name a few miles later, she said Meagan Mead. The hair on the back of my neck stood at attention.

When I caught my breath, I said I’d visited Arlington the day before. Then I told Meagan the story of Megan McClung, the Marine marathoner.

I asked how she spelled her name…differently, but they had the same initials!

Once we hit Mile 12, the Blue Mile, runners solemnly pass photos of Fallen Warriors posted along the flag lined course. Meagan noticed Megan’s photo. We paused to pay our respects.

From the time Meagan joined me to mile 26.2, we ran, walked, talked, ate, drank, laughed, and kicked it to the finish line together.

We were awe-struck that she had chosen me to run with out of 30,000 others, especially since she started 13 minutes later than I did.

Clearly, there were three of us crossing the finish line of the 40th Marine Corps Marathon.

After the marathon, I reached out to Megan’s brother Michael, who wasn’t surprised to hear my story. He said the family had received other reports of Megan’s spirit being with runners during marathons.

Major Megan McClung’s gravestone bears her poignant signature phrase she signed off with as a Public Affairs Officer: “Be Bold. Be Brief. Be Gone.”

Semper Fidelis My Marine Sister. You are gone, but you and all the others who paid the ultimate sacrifice are never forgotten.

Seasons of the Soul

Discussion about this post