Real Life Stories

At age 57, I started training for my first triathlon on a whim. At 59, I qualified for the world championships.

“I distinctly remember the smell of burnt hair from all of the other girls with coarse, curly hair.”

At first I'd crumple with guilt when strangers would ask if I'm breastfeeding. Now I'm choosing to see it as a chance to raise awareness about mental health.

My marriage had ended, and I wanted to trace what had happened. But writing in a journal about how sad I was wasn’t helping.

For years, I’ve told myself not to let those words bother me. But they do. And why shouldn’t they? The only place I’m from is Saskatoon.