At 61, I thought joining a sailing club would shake things up. Capsizing was more than I bargained for. I did it anyway

When I joined a sailing club on the Toronto islands, I imagined weeknights on the water with my husband, sipping cocktails on a polished deck, white sails billowing as the sun set on Lake Ontario and the city lit up for the night.

It would be a great way, I thought, to fight the inertia that has been creeping over us with age — we are 122 years old, 61 each.

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