Two Tales of One City - Labor Day Weekend in Boston

The year was 1971 just about a month after my dad ended his life. My brother packed up the car with me and a couple of his friends and we drove to 700 Commonwealth Avenue also known as "The Zoo" back in the day as I entered my freshman year at Boston University.



I had a roommate from hell, well actually she was from Long Island, who had arrived before me. With her perfect pink manicured hands she decorated my half of our dorm room complete with plastic flowers pinned to my bulletin board. I'm sure she thought I was the roommate from hell as I cried unpacking my things and did not express gratitude to her that she had taken the time to decorate my half of the room and line the drawers of my dresser. She got the R.A., the Resident Assistant who was wonderful. I told her what happened and she told me that I could go to the Counseling Center on Tuesday. A group of us went out to eat at Ken's Steak House in Copley Square. My roommate from hell had decided that I just had to do something with my hair before we went out to eat though and didn't I have any make up to put on? What a start to my Boston adventure. I had the chef's salad with Russian Dressing. There was a familiar taste of New York comfort food that got me through until Tuesday.

Every year at this time the permanent residents of Boston begin to grumble. I used to grumble - a lot and bemoan the end of summer heralded by U Haul lined streets and students flooding "my city." The anniversary reaction of that Labor Day weekend now 43 years ago haunted me with a melancholy that began the week before Labor Day and continued well through the winter months.

While the residents of Boston grumble, the students arrive with equal parts eager anticipation and trepidation. Freshmen, after being at the top of the hill as high school seniors now feel that sense of smallness and uncertainty as they enter their new academic careers. Those returning to their campus home away from home are excited to be reunited with friends and classmates eager to regale their tales of summer. There is a bustle of activity that once used to annoy me but that now fills me with hope.

Rather than feel resentment and frustration over these next few weeks, I'll be sure to leave extra time to get from point A to point B as the population of our fair city swells. Tom and I will go to Gloucester on Saturday to pick up his bib for the Around the Cape 25K he is running on Monday. Sunday we will be sure to not cross the divide into the land of the students at Cleveland Circle and anything we need to do we will do on this side of Beacon Street and Commonwealth Avenue.

Even though I arrived in Boston as a freshmen with a heavy heart and over a decade of challenges with paralytic polio and domestic violence, I had a sense of hope that there was a life beyond what I had lived. Even through all of the pain and suffering, confusion and different paths I traveled, I kept that spark of hope alive. I am so glad I did so that I could arrive here now poised to enjoy Labor Day weekend joining together with the energy of hope as a new academic year, as a new season begins.

Boston may be two tales of one City over Labor Day Weekend but once the crazed frenzy of the weekend subsides, we settle into a rhythm that hopefully will yield an amazing harvest in the years to come.





"Wait, I have one more goal," Mary McManus told her personal trainer in February of 2008 shortly after coming out of her toe up leg brace. "I want to run the Boston Marathon for Spaulding Rehab Hospital." Mary traded in her polio shoes for running shoes and embarked on the journey of a lifetime. Mary McManus was at the height of her career as a VA social worker when she was told by her team at Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital’s International Rehab Center for Polio in December of 2006 that she needed to quit her job if she had any hope of preventing the progression of post polio syndrome, a progressive neuromuscular disease. In “Coming Home: A Memoir of Healing, Hope and Possibility” Mary takes you on her seven year healing odyssey as a survivor of paralytic polio and trauma from her diagnosis, to taking a leap of faith to leave her award winning career at the VA to heal her life and follow her passion as a poet and writer. You’ll experience her trials, tribulations and triumphs as she trains for and crosses the finish line of the 2009 Boston Marathon and discovers the opportunity for healing in the wake of new trauma: the suicide of her nephew in 2011, and the aftermath of the 2013 Boston Marathon bombings. This is Mary's journey of coming home to her human form free from the influences of the ghastly ghostly invaders who had invaded her sacred earthly home. Her memoir includes journals and blog posts from her seven year healing odyssey. This is her journey of transformation and her message of healing, hope and possibility.

I donate 50% of royalty payments through on line sales to The One Fund to help Boston Marathon survivors and their families. Copies are also available at Brookline Marathon Sports. $5 of each book sold at Marathon Sports is donated to The One Fund.

Purpose - On Poetry, Passion and Hope

From my memoir, "Coming Home: A Memoir of Healing, Hope and Possibility":
I had never felt a connection to my body before. It was a strange experience yet one that I hungered for. I wanted to find my way home and Allison was my first tour guide providing the map I needed to reconnect with myself.

The first day I walked into the outpatient gym and saw all of the equipment and machines I thought to myself, I’m going to be able to do this. I can get stronger. I can reconnect with my body. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. I knew it was going to take time and I had to be extremely patient with myself. Allison’s passion for the work and belief in the process was infectious. I wanted to feel better. I wanted to live in my body. I wanted to feel whole. Three times a week we worked together using what I now know was Pilates, isometrics, weight training and cardiovascular exercise to begin to bring my body out of its withered state.

I sat at my dining room table on a freezing cold dark February evening. No one else was at home. I had printouts from ‘new age’ teachers spread out all over the table. Dr. Bernie Siegel, Wayne Dyer, Tony Robbins, teachers from “The Secret” which was very popular back in the day were beckoning me. The theme was gratitude and a call to create.

“I am so happy and grateful that I can create,” was an affirmation from a Lisa Nichols newsletter.

Create? Create? I asked myself over and over again. What am I going to create? I had twins and my childbearing years were over. My career was quickly coming to an end.

And then I felt a stirring in my second chakra (only then I didn’t know it was my second chakra – I thought it might have been something I ate). I went over to my laptop in the corner of the living room and I wrote the poem, "Running the Race."

Poems about wholeness, gratitude, feeling free in my body and healing began flowing out of me. My pen became my diving rod for healing. I continue to write poetry and as Spirit moves me will post them on Facebook. My most recent poems will be incorporated into my next book, "Journey Well." It seems that there is at least one person who thanks me for my poem saying it was exactly what they needed to hear. Purpose ....

I used to try to find my purpose after leaving my award winning career at the VA with a very heavy heart. I realized that I can't find my purpose. The Universe presents me with wonderful opportunities to use my passion and talents for the higher good. I am better able to discern these opportunities and to seize the ones that bring me joy and make my heart sing. Purpose....

Last night after Aquatics Therapy at Spaulding Rehab, one of the women mentioned in the locker room that she felt very frustrated in the class. "You seemed to know what you are doing and you do it with such ease," she said to me. I smiled. I told her that appearances are very deceiving and while some of the exercises are easier for me than others, I have to work hard in the water to create new neuromuscular conditions and build strength. I shared my journey with her. Her eyes welled with tears. "Well ... you gave me hope. You have no idea how much I needed to hear your story today. I'll be back next week." Purpose....

When I was about 11 or 12 years old, I asked my father why we are here. It was a rare moment with him when he was sober. He said that he didn't have an answer but he liked to believe that if we touch the life of at least one other person while we are here, then we can say our life is a success. Purpose ....





"Coming Home: A Memoir of Healing, Hope and Possibility" is now available on Amazon.

"Wait, I have one more goal," Mary McManus told her personal trainer in February of 2008 shortly after coming out of her toe up leg brace. "I want to run the Boston Marathon for Spaulding Rehab Hospital." Mary traded in her polio shoes for running shoes and embarked on the journey of a lifetime. Mary McManus was at the height of her career as a VA social worker when she was told by her team at Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital’s International Rehab Center for Polio in December of 2006 that she needed to quit her job if she had any hope of preventing the progression of post polio syndrome, a progressive neuromuscular disease. In “Coming Home: A Memoir of Healing, Hope and Possibility” Mary takes you on her seven year healing odyssey as a survivor of paralytic polio and trauma from her diagnosis, to taking a leap of faith to leave her award winning career at the VA to heal her life and follow her passion as a poet and writer. You’ll experience her trials, tribulations and triumphs as she trains for and crosses the finish line of the 2009 Boston Marathon and discovers the opportunity for healing in the wake of new trauma: the suicide of her nephew in 2011, and the aftermath of the 2013 Boston Marathon bombings. This is Mary's journey of coming home to her human form free from the influences of the ghastly ghostly invaders who had invaded her sacred earthly home. Her memoir includes journals and blog posts from her seven year healing odyssey. This is her journey of transformation and her message of healing, hope and possibility.

I donate 50% of royalty payments through on line sales to The One Fund to help Boston Marathon survivors and their families. Copies are also available at Brookline Marathon Sports. $5 of each book sold at Marathon Sports is donated to The One Fund.

The Art of the Present Moment-The Masterpiece of My Life

I meditated for an hour this morning reflecting on different feelings in my body and in my heart. The pelting rain and winds were the soundtrack for my meditation. Part of me wondered how we were ever going to get in our training run today. I couldn't believe that given the current weather conditions, the skies could clear. The forecast was for clearing by 10 am though. I imagined that the forecasters were going to say that Hurricane Arthur stalled over New England and we would not get the clearing as previously forecasted.

I planned out a route that would keep us close to home and then went back to listening to my body.

I attended to feelings and thoughts from the past as they arose and then receded much like the waves of the ocean.

I remembered when I was a sweet ballerina with long shiny hair. I could feel the one, two, three punch of contracting paralytic polio. I was paralyzed. My mother and grandmother's cruelty is best symbolized by them carting me off to the hairdresser to have my hair cut into a pixie hair cut once I was able to leave the house, Three years later, and for the next 9 years I became the target of family violence.

After being diagnosed with post polio syndrome, I have been on a 7 and a half year healing odyssey. Through writing poetry, I imagined feeling beautiful, free and whole in my body. I visualized running a race. I had dreams of coming out of my leg brace and dancing in the rain. I held onto hope and never gave up.

On March 20th, I was blessed to find my way to a massage therapist at Sollievo Massage and Bodywork. The rhythm of his hands create new muscle memory; the intention of his heart joins my intention to heal and Zero Balancing, a mind/body therapy has been helping me to transform the energy of violence and trauma that was in my bones.

But in my recent session, I realized that the energy of violence and trauma did not originate with me. I don't have a cruel bone in my body yet I lived under the weight of their projections onto me believing what they said.

And just as somewhere I held onto faith that the skies would in fact clear today (which they did and it turned into one of our most glorious New England Summer days), I have held onto hope that I would find peace and acceptance with all that is and all that happened to me.

After I finished my meditation, I wrote this poem:

The Art of Being Present
Each moment is a blank canvas
smudges and splotches only in mind's eye
raindrops from the heart
wash away the past.
Each moment is an opportunity
overflowing with possibility.

How shall I paint this moment?

My portrait once a still life
now
in stillness
life force leaps
dancer
lover of life
a geyser of joy
a river of happiness
gratitude flows
fragrant flowers sweetness
strong roots
lit with softness of sun's tender embrace
back from the edge
the ledge between life and death
creating the masterpiece of my life
one breath at a time.

Grandma Moses started painting at age 70. At 60, I am painting the masterpiece of my life.



My memoir, "Coming Home: A Memoir of Healing, Hope and Possibility" is now available on Amazon.

"Wait, I have one more goal," Mary McManus told her personal trainer in February of 2008 shortly after coming out of her toe up leg brace. "I want to run the Boston Marathon for Spaulding Rehab Hospital." Mary traded in her polio shoes for running shoes and embarked on the journey of a lifetime. Mary McManus was at the height of her career as a VA social worker when she was told by her team at Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital’s International Rehab Center for Polio in December of 2006 that she needed to quit her job if she had any hope of preventing the progression of post polio syndrome, a progressive neuromuscular disease. In “Coming Home: A Memoir of Healing, Hope and Possibility” Mary takes you on her seven year healing odyssey as a survivor of paralytic polio and trauma from her diagnosis, to taking a leap of faith to leave her award winning career at the VA to heal her life and follow her passion as a poet and writer. You’ll experience her trials, tribulations and triumphs as she trains for and crosses the finish line of the 2009 Boston Marathon and discovers the opportunity for healing in the wake of new trauma: the suicide of her nephew in 2011, and the aftermath of the 2013 Boston Marathon bombings. This is Mary's journey of coming home to her human form free from the influences of the ghastly ghostly invaders who had invaded her sacred earthly home. Her memoir includes journals and blog posts from her seven year healing odyssey. This is her journey of transformation and her message of healing, hope and possibility.

I donate 50% of royalty payments through on line sales to The One Fund to help Boston Marathon survivors and their families. Copies are also available at Brookline Marathon Sports. $5 of each book sold at Marathon Sports is donated to The One Fund.

TBT - March 6, 2009 - Breaking Free & Rebirth - Hill Training Part II

Breaking Free
Tiny buds on the trees - a warm March sun
Snow and ice on the ground - winter not yet done.
Each beat of my heart senses end to the night
From darkness/despair my soul now takes flight.
Running free on the hill embracing the day
Memories of braces and canes all melt away.
So grateful to God for the healing inside
The warmth of the sun pries my heart open wide.

The frigid temperatures yielded to 29 degrees yesterday morning but the sun was warm allowing Ruth Anne and I to head outside with our personal trainer, Janine for Hill Training Part II. Since I knew we were going to do intensive cardio training, we ate breakfast almost an hour earlier and had only one piece of toast instead of two. For long runs, we need the fueling but for a short, intense cardio work out, less fuel is more. Janine was radiant when she arrived and we were so grateful that we could train outside. She was going to demonstrate to us how much fitness we had gained in just one week.

We warmed up with our 5 minute walk and then a 5 minute jog - I could easily keep pace with her this week as we did our warm up run and then the moment of truth. Drop the water belts in the snow and on your mark, get set, go - I made it up the hill with relative ease on the first run with my heart rate going up to 170. I even felt like jogging down which I could not do after the first hill the week before. And so off we went pushing and pushing allowing my heart rate to get up to 176 and doing the hill in about 1:06 - 10 seconds off the previous week. By the fifth time up the hill I was feeling a little nauseous but nothing like last week When I felt uneasy after our first run the week before. I also know that the cross training on the bike boosted my fitness level.

While we recovered from the runs up the hill and on the jog home, we talked about life and laughter and what's happening in our lives beyond training for the Marathon (yes, Virginia, there is life beyond Marathon training). Janine shared with us that she is now doing personal training via Skype for one of her clients who moved to Paris! Boston Homebodies goes international. Her client was unable to find a trainer in Paris and asked if she could continue to work with Janine using Skype. Ruth Anne talked about the opportunity for a summer internship and plans to transfer to Cal State and I talked about book signings, events, customized poetry and my process of transformation.

Janine had been listening to NPR and heard someone say that they loved their depression. Why? because the deeper you go into the dark, the closer you get to the light. That is so true! I have been going deep into the dark night of my soul - polio, childhood abuse, and growing up learning utter deprivation, lack and limitation as a human being - BUT my Spirit could not be touched and tarnished by any of these experiences and I am learning to break free of the myths and untruths that I learned growing up. At times it is a tortuous process but God has sent me so many angels to help in the process of rebirth and transformation. And what a beautiful sign we received yesterday as we saw the bright, deep blue sky, felt the warmth of the sun and saw signs of rebirth in the tiny buds on the trees.

Meet(ing) Dick Beardsley

The Hyannis Half Marathon was my first half marathon ever back in 2009! It holds a very special place in my heart and it always feels like coming home when we walk into the Resort and Conference Center at Hyannis.

Here are some photos from 2009:



And here I am 5 years later with Bill Rodgers - what a transformation!



There is always some kind of magic in the air on race weekend but this weekend was more magical than I could have ever imagined.

There is always a lot of "trash talk" and fun talk at the pre race pasta dinner. It's great to meet up with old friends and make new friends finding out whose first half or full marathon it is and sharing our Hyannis stories. I was in no way prepared for the story that Dick Beardsley was about to share. Initially Bill Rodgers and Dick quipped about running and shared some humorous stories about their shared past at the Boston Marathon. Dick went on to share his story.



It was a big deal for him to graduate high school. He was the first one in his family to graduate high school and when he graduated, he went over to his father who had tears in his eyes. His father handed him a piece of paper that said it was good for one round trip ticket to the Boston Marathon.

Dick went on to share how he got into a near fatal farm accident. He got choked up as he shared that there was a problem with the insurance and he had hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid medical expenses and Bill Rodgers sent him money as did Alberto Salazar.

He then shared how, as a result of the accident, he got addicted to prescription pain medication. He shared his powerful, inspirational journey and the group that was gathered in the ballroom were spellbound.

My husband and I were overcome with emotion. Addiction ran rampant in our families and we know the pain and struggle of addiction. But before us stood Dick Beardsley, a runner and a champion in every sense of the word. Out of his pain and suffering, he created the Dick Beardsley Foundation. Their mission as stated on their website is to:

The Dick Beardsley Foundation will educate the public (including the youth in schools and clubs) on the disease of chemical dependency, the warning signs of chemical dependency, the dangers of chemical dependency, and how chemical dependency can be treated; to promote living a healthy, active lifestyle, chemically free; and to promote greater openness about chemical dependency.

Dick shared with us that they also use funds to pay for recovery treatment programs if an individual has no means of paying for treatment.

Tom and I usually hang around after the speakers finish and if it is someone we haven't met yet, we usually go up and talk to them after their talk. But we were so moved by Dick's talk, that we decided to go back to our room.

The next morning - Race Day and the energy and excitement reverberates throughout the entire hotel. Tom and I had our usual routine of bringing our oatmeal to the lobby, getting coffee for Tom and a bagel for me with fresh fruit. As we were sitting there talking about the amazing weather (45 and sunny for race day in Hyannis - say what?!) and how grateful we felt for our lives together (we're comin' up on 36 years of marriage on 3/4), Tom nudged me.

"Look who's there," he said.

I looked up and I saw Dick Beardsley sporting his red New Balance fleece with his name on it.

"Oh my goodness," I said...

We both thanked Dick for his talk and told him how our family has been touched by addiction. He started talking to us totally wrapped up in the present moment. We suggested that he get in line to order his breakfast. We paid for it! It was the least we could do for all the time he was giving us. I asked him if he needed his space to get in the zone for the relay and he said he would love to have his breakfast with us.

His honesty, his vulnerability, his raw heart and his genuine interest in me and my journey touched my heart beyond words. He told me that he wanted to give me a copy of his book and as I walked with him, at quite a brisk pace I might add, we talked about my recovery from trauma and paralytic polio. We talked about our faith and asking God for help because our challenges needed a force greater than ourselves, yet a force that we possess inside of ourselves to get through the dark nights of our souls.

And after Dick autographed my book, Staying the Course: A Runner's Toughest Race,


he told me that one thing that humans cannot live without is hope. You can go without water for so many days and food for so many days and you can even be deprived of breathing for short periods of time. But once you are deprived of hope, the Spirit withers. I gasped as he talked about hope and told him that the title of my memoir is Coming Home: A Memoir of Healing, Hope and Possibility.

He told me that I will touch and save lives by sharing my journey. I told him that he touched and blessed my life more than words could say. He knows that he has saved lives by sharing his journey and bringing chemical dependency out of the closet. He mentioned that often people hesitate to donate to his foundation because of the shame and stigma around chemical dependency. I told him that my mother was addicted to prescription pain medication. My father was an alcoholic who suicided. My nephew began using drugs at an early age and his addiction resulted in his suicide 3 years ago this March 4th. Dick's compassion and love, his warmth, his humor his passion and exuberance for life, for running and for using his journey to help others heal is overwhelming. As a retired social worker, as the daughter and aunt of losing two people I loved to chemical dependency, I share in his passion for the work he is doing.

Meeting Dick Beardsley has changed my life forever! Go to his website and meet him yourself! And please consider donating to the Dick Beardsley Foundation.