Freedom and Solitude

I decided that I need to run the 2014 Tufts 10K on my own. I want to have the opportunity to run my own race. It's something I need to do for me and it's coming from the depths of my soul. So today, knowing that I need to and want to run the race alone, I set out on my training run prepared as I will be prepared on race day with fuel belt, a Luna bar for mid race fueling and a heart, mind and body focused on a PR from the last Tufts 10K I ran in 2010. My friend Gail Martin, a seasoned runner, always adds, conditions and body willing.

I simulated race day by parking near the T stop and walking over and around the Boston Common to warm up. I headed over to the starting line and off I went. I stopped where the water stops will be. I kept a strong and steady pace running from the inside out. There were moments when no one else was on the sidewalk. With the spectacular view of the Charles River on my left, I felt a sense of expansiveness and solitude.

There were times when I did a little bit of speed work by passing pedestrians and there were times when my body said, "Whoa girl. Slow down. You did a tempo run on Monday. Aquatics on Tuesday and Thursday you rode a bike outdoors for the first time and had your first bike riding lesson."

I took advantage of the downhills and the shade.

I visualized and experienced race day in my mind's eye.

Occasionally, I glanced at my pace and my time but know the importance of listening to my body. I remembered to focus on keeping the connection with my left leg so that my right leg doesn't get overused and injured. I was able to experience the benefits of Thursday's bike riding session. I wanted to see how close I could come to my time to beat for a PR of 1:36:10. I finished with a time today of 1:37:47. That's the best time I have run out on the Tufts 10K course and my best 10K time since I began training in June.

While I love the time spent with others when I run, there is something precious about running alone; especially as I find my own pace, my stride and have to be in solitude with my thoughts. Today's training run was a powerful moving meditation for me as I felt connected to myself and connected to something far greater than myself. It was a time to continue to heal from paralytic polio and trauma.



I enjoyed the silence and I enjoyed my own company. I enjoyed the freedom and the solitude of 6.2 miles along one of my favorite parts of Boston. The Tufts 10K is still seven weeks away but I know it will be here before we know it. I'll be ready to run the race in freedom and solitude among the thousands of runners and spectators. And when I cross the finish line seeing a time better than 1:36, body and conditions willing, I will celebrate with my husband, my daughter and my friends crossing another finish line of the miles in my personal marathon of healing.



"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.

Impatience = I'm Patient

During yesterday's massage treatment at Sollievo Massage and Bodywork, I let out a huge sigh. My therapist asked me if I was doing okay. I replied, "I know I can't force anything. That's counterproductive." I could hear his smile as I shared this. I went on to say that I just want to feel peace in my body but I know there are still layers of violence that need healing. "Yes," he replied as he continued the work, and he went on to say, "It's a marathon Mary. Be patient. Give yourself time." I could hear and feel the compassion in his voice as he used the analogy I used as I shared my reframing of managing energy to that of training for the marathon of my life.

At the end of the session I said, "Maybe all we get is moments of peace." He suggested that the moments of peace get strung together into what seem like longer and longer moments of peace.

I am deeply grateful for the healing that has happened in my life. I am blessed that I have finally found my way to a mind/body therapist that works with me to support my strength training and running and with whom I can finally heal the pain from my past. I feel more optimistic about my healing journey than ever before. And how amazing that I am building strength, confidence and jumping for joy at the Aquatics Therapy program at Spaulding Rehab.

But it does take patience!

And what is patience?



Just like in running a marathon, you don't look at the miles left to run, you look at the miles you have already run, I took an inventory during this morning's meditation noting where healing has already happened. The chronic pain in my IT band and right knee, along with the sense of heaviness in my right leg is resolved. With proper pacing, I have more endurance and have worked out a schedule to get household chores done with help in the relay from my husband. I have more energy flowing through me and have an overall sense of vibrancy and appreciation for my life. I feel contentment regardless of what may or may not be happening in my life. The brain fog of trauma and post polio is gone. I experience clarity, am more in touch with my Spirit and my power and strength and a sense of peace and acceptance in my heart. I know where my body still needs healing and it's okay. I create the optimal healing environment for myself.



When talking about patience, the words equanimity and stillness come to my mind. Nothing can be forced or agitated through impatience:



There was a moment last week at Walden Pond when I bent down to tie my shoe. I moved in a new way and felt as though nothing had ever happened to me. I felt free and natural in my body. I asked my husband out loud, "Do you think it's possible that I can live and be and move in ways that I am healed and feel as though nothing ever happened to me?"

Well of course it's possible. I experienced it in that moment. Just as there are moments of peace in my body to string together, there are moments of feeling free and unencumbered by my past in my body. Experiencing those moments is winning the Olympic Gold in the marathon of my life. I am patient as I continue to heal step by step, mile by mile knowing that the finish line has come into view.




"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.

"One cannot fly into flying...."

Sometimes I get really impatient with myself. Just like I wanted to take off after the runner who said on your left during our training run on Saturday, a part of me wants to be able to run faster, longer, be stronger than where I am now.

And then I pause. I take a deep breath. I realize that there is SO much to be grateful for right here now.

I have four limbs that all work. I have my sight, my vision, my hearing. I am blessed to live in a beautiful neighborhood and have the time, the money and the resources to heal the effects of paralytic polio and violence. I am surrounded by people who love and respect me as I am. I am able to enjoy and appreciate my life.

I realize when I feel impatient about where I am, a part of me wants to deny what happened to me. I become like a dog with a bone growling and wrestling with this imaginary foe.

I'm exactly where I need to be. Otherwise - I wouldn't be here.

And how amazing to be here. I use 5 pound ankle weights during my Aquatics Therapy class on Tuesday morning. This morning I challenged myself with squats by going into deeper water. I had to move back into the more shallow water for upper body strength training. I remember when I couldn't even do a squat without having my back to the wall. I have come so far with balance, strength and endurance since last August when I first started Aquatics Therapy at Spaulding.

And there is no evidence of progression of the late effects of having contracted paralytic polio.

Quite the contrary. I run a 5K distance on Mondays and a 10K distance on Saturdays. I've run in a few races and have the Bill Rodgers 5K in August, the Spectacle Island Run in September and the Tufts 10K in October. What joy I experience when I volunteer or spectate at a race or get to hang out with my runner friends.

I'm finding my way back to myself feeling a sense of peace and acceptance with exactly where I am.

And there are moments when I'm out there running, playing with the waves and swimming in the ocean or taking a few laps in the Spaulding Pool that I'm flying and free.




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.

#flashbackfriday Crossing the Finish Line: A Moment of Redemption - A Realization of Power

I posted this picture on Facebook yesterday and received many wonderful comments so I decided to use it for today's blog.



We took our place at the mobility impaired start on the morning of 4/20/2009. Dave McGilivray gave us the voice command, runners take your mark, get set, go. I can still remember everything so clearly. I felt as though it was just like a regular training run. Going off at 9 am the crowds were sparse once we left the starting line behind us. I remember feeling there was a certain surreal quality about actually being out on the Boston Marathon course.



We had run every part of the course except the stretch from Hopkinton to Framingham. We passed through Ashland and as we got closer to Framingham, the crowds seemed to appear out of nowhere as if we were on a movie set. The waves of elite runners were passing us. I remember the thrill of seeing the likes of Ryan Hall and the Kenyans pass us. We joked that we were holding back, planning our surge once we got to the Newton Hills.

The Wellesley College scream tunnel can only be experienced not described.

As we ran through Wellesley Center, spectators could see that I was not your average runner. They cheered and screamed for me and Spaulding Rehab. The temperatures climbed to 70 degrees and we stripped off layers. My husband stopped and tossed his running pants. Yes he was wearing shorts underneath them. I was wearing Capris and would need them once the headwind hit us coming off of the Newton Hills.

Friends met us along the way and would run with us. I knew that I needed to keep a slow pace to avoid injury as we went through what seemed to be 3 different weather seasons that day. It was relatively easy for them to keep us with us.

We turned onto Beacon Street. How many times had we run this stretch of the road since our first and last training run and every run in between. I knew we were going to finish. My only hope was that we would finish before the finish line closed.

Kenmore Square. One mile to go.

When we turned onto Hereford Street, the tears began to flow but I knew I had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. I could feel that I had a mother lode of a blood blister on my foot. My mouth felt as though I had cotton in it.

The turn onto Boylston Street seeing the lights and arc of the finish line in the distance. It's true what they say about the distance from that left onto Boylston Street to the finish line. It seems longer than the entire 26 mile course already run.

And then - the finish line! We crossed over the finish line to the volunteer area to have the chip removed from our shoes and receive our medal. I was, needless to say, very wobbly on my feet. I apologized to the volunteer for having difficulty finding my balance. He said, "You just ran 26.2 miles. There's nothing to apologize for!" He gave me his hand and arm for support as he took the chip off of my shoe and exchanged it with a medal around my neck.



While it was a moment of personal redemption as a survivor of paralytic polio and trauma, it was a moment far greater than myself. They say that the person who starts the race is not the same person who crosses the finish line of a marathon. I knew that my marathon run would be a story to be told and retold to inspire others. It was the beginning of a new starting line in my healing journey; an accomplishment that would stay in my heart, body and soul as I navigate the sometimes turbulent waters of my healing odyssey.

As a trauma survivor, I experienced what I call the energy of helplessness and lived with this uneasy sense of fear and uncertainty in my soul and in my body. During this morning's meditation I realized that I may have experienced a feeling of helplessness and been terrified out of my mind, BUT I never lost my power. It was there all along. To survive, I chose to not act on how strong I was or how powerful I was. It was there all along. Crossing the finish line of the 2009 Boston Marathon was a moment of redemption and a moment when I reclaimed just how powerful a woman I am; just how powerful any trauma survivor is and just how powerful we all are regardless of external circumstances. It is a power that comes from deep within the very essence of our souls. It is the power that fuels us in the marathon of 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.

Walking Miles on Heartbreak Hill-Comfort in the Comfort Zone

A few years ago after Tom ran the Falmouth Road Race which is too fast a field for me, we ran the course together from start to finish so I could experience the race. He would tell me how he felt at different parts of his race. I would be able to experience the race course at my own pace; running it together made me feel as though I had been with him on race day.

I am training for the Tufts 10K 2014. What better way to train than on the Heartbreak Hill Half Marathon 10K course before we head downtown to train on the Tufts 10K course. Tom ran the 10K last weekend. I once again had the opportunity to share in race day with him without the stress of trying to keep up with a fast field. So on Saturday, we headed out to the Newton Hills for me to begin to get more miles into my legs.

I knew I wanted to walk the distance at a pace well within my comfort zone. After these past several weeks of hectic activity and racing, I knew that I did not want to push myself. Besides, walking 6.1 miles on the Newton Hills still gives you a great workout.

There was a mystical quality to the hills in the mist and fog. Tom and I commented how just a few short months ago we were navigating patches of black ice and climbing over mounds of snow.

Keeping at a comfortable pace gave me the opportunity to take in the majesty of Heartbreak Hill.

Everything was green and trees were in full bloom.

We stopped to capture the beauty of the raindrops on the flowers of this tree:



There's something so nourishing for the soul to walk for miles, breathing in fresh, fragrant air and taking the time to notice the beautiful details in nature.

It's so important for us to slow down and take it easy knowing that tomorrow is another day to pick up the pace. There is comfort and joy to be experienced in the comfort zone. It's a great space to abide.


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.

The Joy of Running

Three years ago, if you would have told me that I'd be writing a blog today about the joy of running, I would have thought you were crazy! My running career began at the age of 53 and I thought it was a short lived running career because of the late effects of paralytic polio. On my seven year healing odyssey, I realized that it was not just the late effects of paralytic polio that took a toll on me mind, body and spirit, but 9 years of unrelenting trauma.

I moved mountains with a mustard seed of faith and trained for and ran the 2009 Boston Marathon as a mobility impaired runner.


I had a "relapse". I went back into outpatient rehab and returned to the roads with a vengeance in 2010. By 2011, and in the wake of my nephew's suicide on 3/4/11, I crashed again.

On 4/15/13, we had to evacuate from the Mandarin Oriental Hotel where we were watching the 2013 Boston Marathon with Spaulding Rehab's Race for Rehab team and get to our car about 3 miles from the Hotel.

Tom and I went on to do the #onerun on 5/25th and I realized that it was time for me to return to running and the running community. I learned that once you are a member of the running community, you are always a member of the running community even if you are not able to be out there running.

It was hard work to begin again and train for the Brookline Symphony Orchestra 5K on 9/29.


Seven months later, I am feeling the joy of running a 5K distance. I'm planning to run the Tufts 10K in October and 5-7 miles challenges me but doesn't overwhelm me. As I said in "Find Your Distance", find and celebrate your distance.

By not putting any pressure on myself to run beyond a 10K distance, and by signing up for mostly 5K races, I can feel the joy and magic of running. I enjoy being outdoors again and feeling the joy of moving with relative ease in my body yet I can also experience the joy that comes with a challenge like running on Heartbreak Hill, increasing my distance up to a 10K and working on my time. As the days get warmer and the earth comes back to life after a long, brutal New England winter, I feel the joy of Spring returning. I know how blessed I am to once again be able to experience the joy of running!