March sergeant perseveres to earn marathon's "Tail End Charlie" award

  • Published
  • By Linda Welz and Senior Airman Patrick Cabellon
  • 452 AMW Public Affairs
MARCH AIR RESERVE BASE, CALIF. --  The race began seven hours and 30 minutes and 26.2 miles ago. You are barely able to walk; what you're doing is more like a limp. The pain is excruciating; both knees are buckling, your feet are on fire and your big toenails feel as if they are being ripped off at the nail bed with every agonizing step you take.

But each step brings you that much closer to the finish line and you are determined. People cheer as you make your final steps through the finishing ribbon and the end of the race. You are given your completion medal...and a trophy for finishing the race dead last. But, you finished!

Such was the case with Staff Sgt. Alicia Salas, an information technician with the 752nd Medical Squadron, March Air Reserve Base, Calif. Sergeant Salas is a member of the Long Beach City College Cross-Country team and was one of 12,000 runners at the 2010 U. S. Air Force Marathon at Wright Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio. The marathon kicked off Sept. 18 at 7:15 a.m.

"I was fine up until mile 17," said Sergeant Salas. "I had been keeping up with a pacer who was running at a pace that would finish the marathon around the five hour mark. I was used to a 10-minute mile, so I thought that would be perfect."

But at mile 17, Sergeant Salas whose longest run to date had been 16 miles, had to take a quick restroom break. Sergeant Salas said it was the mile and a half sprint to catch up to the pacer that did her in. Until that point, Sergeant Salas had only experienced minor discomfort, but during the sprint, the minor discomfort transformed into real pain.

"From the waist up, I was fine. From the waist down, I was hurting," said Sergeant Salas. "I hit my wall, so I decided to walk mile 19."

Feeling better by mile 20.5, Sergeant Salas said she tried running for another mile.

"I was limping. My big toes and both my knees were hurting pretty badly," she said. "I heard that people actually lose their toenails from running a marathon. My new goal was to not lose mine. They were really killing me."

During the next three miles, she recalls medical personnel riding bicycles who would ask her how she was feeling, then encourage her to go to the medical tent to have her legs iced.

"When I hit mile 24.5, the med guys told me I needed to get my knees wrapped and that I needed to be seen by a doctor," she said. "I told them the only way I would see a doctor is if they brought me back to the same spot where they had picked me up so that I could finish the race. They reluctantly agreed."

Medical staff picked her up in a cart and took her to a medical tent for treatment and evaluation. At the tent, medical staff iced and wrapped her legs.

After a medical evaluation, Sergeant Salas received news that sent waves of emotional defeat surging through her body.

"The doctor said really matter-of-factly, 'Well, you're done. We've got the medics coming to pick up the others. We'll add you to the list,'" she said.

That's when Sergeant Salas began to sob.

"Tears were streaming down my face and I argued with the doctor for a long time," she said. "I was so close and they promised. I was begging. I wanted to finish the race!"

The doctor eventually agreed to let her back into the race and a marathon staff car took her back to the place the medical staff originally picked her up from. The staff car then followed behind her, as the streets that had been blocked for the marathon had been re-opened. With an ice pack in hand, she continued - determined to finish.

The 25-minute stay in the tent gave Sergeant Salas a surge of energy.

"I started running. Well, it was actually a sort of hobble limp glide," she said with a hearty laugh. "I felt like I was running. My arms were moving really fast!"

She could hear the engine of the staff car that was following her shut off at times, which she said was a reminder of how slow she was actually going.

"At mile 25, I could see the mile-marker clock was off," she said. "I asked the driver, who was right next to me, if the race was officially over, if someone was going to be there when I got there, if I was going to get a medal."

The driver made a call and told her it wasn't over yet, but would be by the time she got there, she said. Then he told her they were going to turn the clocks and lights on just for her.

"A street sweeper passed me, which was really embarrassing," she said. "From the waist up, I felt like a million bucks, but from the knees down I felt like I was 100 years old!"

Through word-of-mouth, spectators heard of her continued effort to finish and remained on the course to cheer her on as she slowly made her way to the finish line.

Coming down the back stretch, she heard her name, she said.

"Tail End Charlie--That's me! That's me!" she said.

People who had passed her on the course were there, encouraging her to finish, she said.

"The 80-year-olds wearing braces were asking me, a 27-year-old, if I was okay," she said. "They were all there waiting and clapping for me. I started to cry and run faster. The announcer even ran out to me to tell me there was a general waiting for me at the finish line."

A group of runners ran alongside her on her final five minute stretch, but let her cross the finish line alone so she would be the only one to break the ribbon.

"It was amazing!," she said. "We heard that Tail End Charlie was coming and we knew how much pain she was in," said Maj. Michael McGann, Emergency Services Nurse, 88th Medical Squadron, Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio. "When she came around the corner she had a grimace on her face and she was limping really badly, but absolutely determined. She's one tough staff sergeant!"

Sergeant Salas's time from start to finish was 7:30:52.

"After I crossed the finish line everything was a blur," she said.

Brig. Gen. Richard Hersack, Command Surgeon, Air Force Material Command, was at the finish line to congratulate her. The general said he has volunteered to be there for the Tail End Charlie winner for the last three marathons.

"I think it's important," he said. "In my mind, there is a certain level of courage and determination to be the one to stay out there for seven or seven and a half hours. I have a lot of respect for them. That last three and a half hours is grueling because they are in the mid- day sun."
 
The general said Sergeant Salas looked like someone who was very, very focused, definitely limping and favoring a leg.

"She had a look of determination on her face like she was saying 'I am going to finish this,'" he said.

In addition to the general, two colonels volunteered to stretch the ribbon across the finish line so she could break it, the general said.

"She was overjoyed. This was someone who was not going to be denied," General Hersack said.

After congratulating Sergeant Salas, the general presented her with her medal and told her she should be very proud.

"She was definitely a picture of courage," said General Hersack.

After a quick interview at the finish line with a Wright-Patterson public affairs representative, medical staff personnel took Sergeant Salas to the main tent where she received a phone call from Col. Karl McGregor, Commander, 452nd Air Mobility Command, March Air Reserve Base, Calif.

"My commander was waiting with the van to pick me up! That was awesome and amazing," she said. "He helped me into the van!"

Once in the van, Sergeant Salas endured the aftermath of a marathon, something she had never experienced before but had been warned about from other runners.

"I was sitting there trying to stretch, but the lactic acid had built up in my legs and I felt like rigamortis had set in."

Although proud of her accomplishment at finishing the marathon, Sergeant Salas said next year will not be a repeat. Instead, she plans to enter the half marathon.

"I always wanted to do a full marathon, now I have that out of my system, done and done," she said with a smile from ear to ear. "Overall, it was awesome!"