If there's smoke, there's... stress

Busy lo­cals un­wind in sur­pris­ing ways

Grand Magazine - - FRONT PAGE - By Bar­bara Ag­ger­holm

Do you feel stressed? What do you do about it?

Per­haps you go rock climb­ing or head for the gar­den as soon as you get home to feel the dirt in your hands. Maybe you knit while you’re at an in­ter­minably long meet­ing, or take the dog for a run with you later.

How we re­lax is as in­di­vid­ual as the pres­sures that cre­ate those stress knots in the first place.

Water­loo Re­gion res­i­dents are known for their in­no­va­tion, so it stands to rea­son that they’re also in­ven­tive about how they un­wind from the chaos of busy lives.

We talked to five people who deal with ev­ery­day stress with hu­mour, per­sis­tence and a bit of dar­ing.

There’s a fire chief who gets a chuckle from his col­leagues for do­ing yoga; a li­brar­ian whose new pas­sion for box­ing has earned her the nick­name Hur­ri­cane. There’s a med­i­cal of­fi­cer of health who in­tends to run the Bos­ton Marathon next year; and a fam­ily physi­cian who ex­am­ined his own prac­tice af­ter see­ing fel­low doc­tors hurt by stress.

There is also a cer­ti­fied gen­eral ac­coun­tant who looks af­ter the books for a re­gion-wide nu­tri­tional pro­gram in schools. She says this vol­un­teer po­si­tion, which helps make sure that no child or teen is too hun­gry to learn, does her heart – and her own health – good.


Dur­ing a wilder­ness ca­noe trip in Canada’s North, Dr. Liana Nolan, Water­loo Re­gion’s med­i­cal of­fi­cer of health, lies on the ground and looks up.

“It’s an amaz­ing thing to lie on your back and see the North­ern Lights dance in the sky,” she says. “There’s no noise ex­cept wind and leaves.

“You get to have that all to yourself. It’s re­ju­ve­nat­ing.”

For 13 years, Nolan, 49, has been in charge of pub­lic health pro­grams, out­breaks and emer­gen­cies. She was the voice that we heard when Se­vere Acute Re­s­pi­ra­tory Syn­drome (SARS) hit Canada in 2003. She’s the one we turn to dur­ing flu out­breaks and food safety is­sues. She makes plans so we don’t panic in the event of a pan­demic.

“I have to make de­ci­sions in the in­ter­est of the pop­u­la­tion and of­ten in a pub­lic way with lots of me­dia scru­tiny and in­ter­est,” she says. “The big­gest thing is get­ting the right in­for­ma­tion to people so they know what’s hap­pen­ing.

“Things change and you have to be flex­i­ble and ac­ces­si­ble and be able to break things down. It’s es­pe­cially chal­leng­ing when people are wor­ried.” >>

>> Nolan likes her job and she knows what to do with stress. She’s a marathoner, a wilder­ness pad­dler, a cy­clist, a crosscountry skier.

“For me, it’s im­por­tant to have bal­ance. Ever since I was a teenager, I’ve tried to pay at­ten­tion to find bal­ance and make sure I have friends to rely on.”

She ran track and cross coun­try when she was a teen, but be­gan to lose stamina when she was in her late 30s, work­ing, and leading a more seden­tary life­style. Then she started run­ning again.

Her hus­band, Greg, shares her pas­sion for ad­ven­ture. They took white­wa­ter ca­noe lessons when they were dat­ing, and cy­cled and camped in Europe.

Nolan has run nine marathons, in­clud­ing five big ones in New York City, Chicago, Bos­ton, Lon­don and Berlin. She trains with a group of friends out of Run­ners’ Choice in Water­loo. On Sun­days, they run and then meet for break­fast.

Strength train­ing, yoga and Pi­lates are also part of her reg­i­men.

“It gives me en­ergy to be train­ing. I re­ally en­joy the friend­ship and shar­ing it with my hus­band. I like the chal­lenge.”

This spring, Nolan was a spec­ta­tor cheer­ing on a friend run­ning in the Bos­ton Marathon. The year be­fore, Nolan raced to find the same friend who had crossed the fin­ish line a cou­ple of mo­ments be­fore bombs ex­ploded, in­jur­ing more than 200 people and killing three. In the chaos, she found her friend, safe, at a pre­ar­ranged spot.

Nolan plans to run the Bos­ton Marathon her­self in 2015. It will be her sec­ond time. This De­cem­ber, she will run the Cal­i­for­nia In­ter­na­tional Marathon in Sacra­mento. She’ll also turn 50 in De­cem­ber, pav­ing the way for a “mile­stone year.”

“I try to have an ad­ven­ture of a life­time at least once a year,” she says, laugh­ing. She and her hus­band have pad­dled with friends in rivers across the coun­try, in­clud­ing the Cop­per­mine River and Churchill River. “When I fin­ish one ad­ven­ture, I start plan­ning an­other,” she says.

Some of my great­est sat­is­fac­tion is coach­ing and men­tor­ing and see­ing them de­velop. It con­trib­utes to my health.

Richard Hepditch

She col­lects beau­ti­ful sights along the way. She has seen an adult po­lar bear play about a kilo­me­tre from where she was rest­ing dur­ing a two-week ca­noe trip on Seal River, Man. “It was a high­light of the trip. They are beau­ti­ful an­i­mals,” she says.

She and her hus­band have watched whales breach. They’ve seen bald ea­gles, golden ea­gles, cari­bou; “a lot of an­i­mals that haven’t seen hu­mans be­fore.”

Back at the of­fice, pho­tos of her ad­ven­tures help on a stress­ful day.

There are no cell­phones and no work in­ter­rup­tions when they’re wilder­ness ca­noe­ing, she says. And work con­cerns tend to get trumped by ev­ery­day pri­or­i­ties like food, sleep and stay­ing warm. “It brings you back to ba­sics. “I know be­cause we don’t have kids, there is less to jug­gle,” she says. But stay­ing ac­tive, as dis­cussed in a book she read called Younger Next Year, is a pri­or­ity.

That book made her re­al­ize how much so­ci­ety in­vests in ed­u­ca­tion, chil­dren, a home. “Why not in­clude look­ing af­ter yourself?

“If the dif­fer­ence is liv­ing younger and more in­de­pen­dently, isn’t that worth it?” she says.

“There’s so much I want to keep do­ing. My real goal is when I’m 80, I’ll still ski and cy­cle and ca­noe.”


In the liv­ing room of his home, Richard Hepditch prac­tises yoga.

His chil­dren and their friends might pass by, the main floor might be noisy with fam­ily life, but Water­loo’s new fire chief is fo­cused on the tele­vi­sion where a DVD gives him yoga in­struc­tions.

A 40-minute yoga ses­sion is one way that Hepditch puts bal­ance back into his life – a life with heavy work de­mands and re­spon­si­bil­ity for pub­lic safety.

Be­fore he was named fire chief in May, Hepditch was deputy fire chief of sup­port ser­vices.

He’s avail­able and ready to re­spond to a ma­jor in­ci­dent at any time. He knows the el­e­ments of risk and dan­ger to his fire­fight­ers and to the pub­lic. He’s also the com­mu­nity’s emer­gency man­age­ment co­or­di­na­tor; a key leader in an emer­gency.

“The el­e­ment of pub­lic safety is 24/7,” he says. “It means that you’re never turned off.”

As fire chief, he also works more closely now with govern­ment and union of­fi­cials and mem­bers of the com­mu­nity. Water­loo’s fire depart­ment has 126 fire­fight­ers, fire preven­tion of­fi­cers and ad­min­is­tra­tors.

Hepditch, 41, is aware that yoga is a rather un­usual way for a fire­fighter to un­wind.

“Some of the guys know that I do it and I’ve taken a rib­bing for it,” he says, smil­ing.

“It gets mixed re­views be­cause it’s not weight train­ing. . . .

“Yoga is the fur­thest thing from . . . axes and hel­mets and trucks.”

But there in the liv­ing room of his Water­loo home, with its peace­ful grey colour, nat­u­ral wood floors and in win­ter, a fire burn­ing in the fire­place, Hepditch says yoga makes him feel re­laxed, calm and fo­cused. It’s also good ex­er­cise, he says.

He doesn’t have time to go to a yoga stu­dio so the liv­ing room works just fine, he says.

“If I can do it in the early morn­ing, that’s the best time,” he says. “I was up at 10 to six this morn­ing and I did yoga.”

With the range of re­spon­si­bil­i­ties in his new po­si­tion comes “a greater sense and aware­ness to take care of my­self and man­age stress and eat well and get good rest.”

Hepditch was in­tro­duced to yoga about 13 years ago when he at­tended a class with his

wife, Lisa, who was preg­nant with their first of three chil­dren. He con­tin­ued prac­tis­ing yoga off and on. About four years ago, he at­tended a class at a hot yoga stu­dio in Kitch­ener and “I started get­ting back into it.” Hepditch is in his 17th year with the fire ser­vice. For three years, he worked as both fire­fighter and para­medic. For more than a decade, he also taught and co-or­di­nated the pre-ser­vice fire­fighter ed­u­ca­tion and train­ing at Con­estoga Col­lege. He now teaches on­line and dis­tance ed­u­ca­tion cour­ses in the fire ser­vice lead­er­ship pro­gram of Nova Sco­tia’s Dal­housie Univer­sity. Yoga is his stress-buster. So is vol­un­teer­ing. For eight years he co-chaired Real Men Can Cook Water­loo, a com­mu­nity fundraiser. Last year, he won a de­bate in the in­au­gu­ral Water­loo Reads com­pe­ti­tion, ar­gu­ing the mer­its of the book In­dian Horse by Richard Wagamese.

He’s a long­time hockey and soc­cer coach for his chil­dren’s teams, in­clud­ing a stint this year as goalie coach of his el­dest son’s Ma­jor Pee­wee AA team which went to the provin­cial fi­nals in April.

“Some of my great­est sat­is­fac­tion is coach­ing and men­tor­ing and see­ing them de­velop. It con­trib­utes to my health,” he says.

“I’m coach­ing hockey and en­joy­ing my­self. Ev­ery­thing else is turned off and I think that is why I en­joy it so much, and I ex­er­cise.”

On his first day at Royal Roads Univer­sity in Vic­to­ria, B.C. where he’s work­ing part-time on his mas­ter of arts de­gree in dis­as­ter and emer­gency man­age­ment, Hepditch says he learned an im­por­tant les­son about re­flec­tion.

Stu­dents were told to walk through a for­est with­out talk­ing. They were to think about why they were there and who was sup­port­ing them.

He chat­ted with a for­mer Cana­dian mil­i­tary head who told him about the value of deep re­flec­tion in his life.

“It was like a light bulb went off,” Hepditch says.

Royal Roads Univer­sity has been a “trans­for­ma­tive ex­pe­ri­ence” in terms of how he thinks and sees things, he says. One pro­gram in par­tic­u­lar taught him that “no mat­ter how big or dif­fi­cult a chal­lenge, there is some­thing good and pos­i­tive in ev­ery­thing.

“It’s not about ly­ing to yourself. It’s (about) you in­volv­ing oth­ers and dis­cussing and com­ing up with a good so­lu­tion.”

While yoga, vol­un­teer­ing and re­flec­tion play an im­por­tant part in de-stress­ing his life, Hepditch cred­its Lisa, whom he started dat­ing in high school, as mak­ing the big­gest dif­fer­ence in help­ing him stay bal­anced.

Lisa owns her own busi­ness. Re­cently, she be­gan tak­ing part in a boot camp, some­thing he’s think­ing about do­ing too. They’ve been mar­ried 15 years.

“My re­la­tion­ship with her is the great­est bal­ance in my life.”>>

In­stead of an­swer­ing share­hold­ers, I’m an­swer­ing to lit­tle kids who need food.

Lori San­tos


All day, Lori San­tos, a se­nior fi­nan­cial an­a­lyst at Man­ulife Fi­nan­cial, man­ages ex­penses, fore­casts and bud­gets.

Nat­u­rally, there’s pres­sure, par­tic­u­larly dur­ing reporting pe­ri­ods, and the com­pany has seen a lot of re­or­ga­ni­za­tional change over the seven years she has worked there. “It’s al­ways chal­leng­ing,” she says.

Af­ter work on Tues­days, San­tos hops in her car and heads for an in­dus­trial park near Ayr where she spends a few more hours crunch­ing num­bers as vol­un­teer trea­surer of Nu­tri­tion for Learn­ing.

San­tos, 42, may not be rock climb­ing, box­ing or run­ning to blow off steam, but she’s man­ag­ing stress just the same.

Vol­un­teer­ing is an­other way to cre­ate bal­ance in your life, well­ness ex­perts say.

San­tos says her ac­count­ing skills take on new mean­ing when she’s us­ing them to help chil­dren who come to school hun­gry.

Nu­tri­tion for Learn­ing is a com­mu­ni­ty­based char­ity that feeds thou­sands of stu­dents in Water­loo Re­gion ev­ery school day.

The nu­tri­tious food pro­grams are open to any stu­dent who is hun­gry that day, what­ever the rea­son.

A year and a half ago, San­tos saw a pre­sen­ta­tion through her com­pany about vol­un­teer board op­por­tu­ni­ties. It seemed as though Nu­tri­tion for Learn­ing fit with her phi­los­o­phy, she says.

“It helps kids and sends them off to a good start and makes sure they get an ed­u­ca­tion.”

San­tos, who has a 12-year-old daugh­ter, says she wants to share her good for­tune.

“She brings so much joy to our life. We want to pass it on to oth­ers.”

Her vol­un­teer work – her first since fin­ish­ing school in 2007 and hav­ing her daugh­ter - gives her “a whole dif­fer­ent per­spec­tive,” she says. “Here, I look at ex­penses. There, I look at the whole pic­ture. I see the whole process.”

San­tos goes to Nu­tri­tion for Learn­ing’s of­fices one or two times a week for two to three hours each time. She at­tends bi­monthly board meet­ings and a monthly ex­ec­u­tive meet­ing. She might take some work home. This year, she helped build an ac­count­ing sys­tem to sup­port a new pro­gram

in­volv­ing the ware­house and in­ven­tory.

It’s busy, but “I re­ally like it,” she says. “It’s a feel-good ex­pe­ri­ence to make sure there’s enough money to feed as many kids as pos­si­ble.

“In­stead of an­swer­ing share­hold­ers, I’m an­swer­ing to lit­tle kids who need food.” They’re our fu­ture lead­ers, she says. The vol­un­teer work has helped give her bal­ance, San­tos says. She’s learn­ing new things and she en­joys the ca­ma­raderie.

“I think it’s just get­ting out and be­ing with other people and the ca­ma­raderie and the feel­ing that you’re mak­ing a con­tri­bu­tion to so­ci­ety. “Last year, I toured el­e­men­tary and high schools . . . to get a feel of the va­ri­ety of pro­grams,” she says. She served bur­ri­tos and vis­ited with stu­dents.

“I think the first one I went to, there was one lit­tle girl who sat at the back,” she says. “She wouldn’t go up (to get food) un­til no one was look­ing.

“It was heart­break­ing,” she says. But “the good thing is here’s a shy, lit­tle girl who is sit­ting with other kids . . . and sit­ting with adults and hav­ing a con­ver­sa­tion.”

In ad­di­tion to vol­un­teer­ing, San­tos says her pets – two par­rots, a dog, a cou­ple of bun­nies – on the fam­ily’s hobby farm in In­nerkip help her re­lax.

She also paints, reads a lot, and has taken a cake dec­o­rat­ing class. She has knitted since she was 10 years old. In the sum­mer, she en­joys hol­i­days in the trailer with her hus­band and daugh­ter.


They call her the Hur­ri­cane. Sandi Hall’s blood pres­sure was too high and she wanted to lose weight.

When she walked into Syd Van­der­pool’s gym for the first time a cou­ple of years ago, she wanted to run right out again. She didn’t know the lingo – hooks and jabs weren’t yet in her vo­cab­u­lary. She spent her days with books, not box­ers, for heaven’s sake.

“My own knowl­edge of box­ing was that I saw Rocky, (the movie) and that’s it,” she says, laugh­ing.

Hall, 47, is Water­loo Pub­lic Li­brary’s web­mas­ter. She man­ages the li­brary’s web­site, blogs and other so­cial me­dia. She’s in charge of the li­brary’s pub­lic­ity, pro­mo­tions, news­let­ters and brochures. She’s the brains be­hind imag­i­na­tive fundrais­ers.

A for­mer equine pho­tog­ra­pher who cov­ered in­ter­na­tional horse shows, she now uses her tal­ents to take pic­tures and man­age the web­site and so­cial me­dia for the Water­loo Wolves Ma­jor Midget AAA hockey team and the New Ham­burg Fire­birds Ju­nior C team. >>

>> She also oc­ca­sion­ally takes pic­tures for the Water­loo Siskins, for which her hus­band is head trainer. “It’s go, go, go,” she says. She likes her busy life and she was shocked when, a cou­ple of years ago, her doc­tor said that her blood pres­sure was “in the dan­ger zone.” But her fa­ther had had a heart at­tack, so she lis­tened when he said to lose weight and ex­er­cise.

Hall has rid­den horses all her life, and jogged since she was in her late 20s. But an in­jury to her knees com­bined with her horses’ re­tire­ment had made her less ac­tive, she says.

She dis­cov­ered that Van­der­pool, a for­mer world ti­tle con­tender, was of­fer­ing a six-week course at his gym for people who knew noth­ing about box­ing. She signed up with her hus­band.

She started ex­er­cis­ing and box­ing in group classes around the time that Hur­ri­cane Sandy struck in 2012. The tim­ing, as well as her per­sis­tence and enthusiasm for the sport earned her the nick­name Hur­ri­cane. She made small changes to her diet. “I boxed for a few months be­fore I told any­body,” she says. “At my age, my thought is people who box are re­ally tough and re­ally young and su­per-fit.”

By the end of the six-week course, Hall had lost 16 pounds. She felt good. “I fell in love with it.” To­day, Hall be­lieves she’s one of the older box­ers at the gym. She loves work­ing on the heavy bag, pre­fer­ring that ex­er­cise to spar­ring in the ring. She likes the de­mands that the ex­er­cise places on her mind and she likes the feel­ing of strength that she gets.

“Box­ing sur­prised me in how much you have to think,” she says. “And when you hit the bag . . . you feel the power go up the arm and through the shoul­der and you feel strong. “I like to hit it like you mean it,” she says. She es­pe­cially likes the feel­ing of ca­ma­raderie in the gym as she ex­er­cises and boxes three to four times a week.

“They’d say ‘the Hur­ri­cane is in the house’ and there’s rap mu­sic play­ing,” she says, smil­ing. “It’s a real com­mu­nity there.”

Ear­lier this year, Hall had a doc­tor’s ap­point­ment.

“I’m down 30 pounds and four cloth­ing sizes,” she says. She’s work­ing to re­duce her weight and blood pres­sure fur­ther.

“I’ve to­tally mas­tered hooks. Now they call them the Hur­ri­cane hooks. It makes me laugh.”

She’s walk­ing and jog­ging again too. And she’s gar­den­ing at their house which she and her hus­band share with a dog and two cats.

Her late grand­fa­ther, James Hall, was a

win­ning boxer when he was in the Bri­tish army. “I think he’s prob­a­bly up there think­ing this is phenom­e­nal.” And while it might seem un­usual for a li­brar­ian to box, Hall re­minds us that the fit comic book hero, Bar­bara Gor­don, a.k.a. Bat­girl, was a li­brar­ian at the Gotham City Li­brary. Mean­while, Hall is think­ing about get­ting a tat­too of a hur­ri­cane to cel­e­brate her new pas­sion. Her box­ing grandpa had a tat­too.

“I feel to­tally en­er­gized again,” she says. “I don’t like miss­ing it. It puts a smile on my face. It makes my day.”


In his prac­tice, Dr. Joseph Lee saw fel­low physi­cians strug­gle with stress and burnout. It was about a decade ago and the doc­tors – “re­ally good, rock-solid people” – were his pa­tients.

It made him think hard about his own life. “Could I be at risk? Could that be me?” he asked him­self.

Lee is chair and lead physi­cian at the Cen­tre for Fam­ily Medicine, Fam­ily Health Team. He has won awards for his lead­er­ship in es­tab­lish­ing the Cen­tre for Fam­ily Medicine in Kitch­ener, the Kitch­ener-Water­loo Fam­ily Medicine res­i­dency pro­gram and the Water­loo Re­gional med­i­cal school cam­pus of McMaster Univer­sity.

He has his own prac­tice and teaches res­i­dent doc­tors and med­i­cal stu­dents. He does re­search and ad­min­is­tra­tion. He’s mar­ried to Dr. Linda Lee, known for her fam­ily medicine mem­ory clinic which is a model for other clin­ics in On­tario. They have three chil­dren in univer­sity.

Lee de­cided to look into physi­cians’ stress. As part of a mas­ter’s de­gree in med­i­cal ed­u­ca­tion, he in­ter­viewed lo­cal fam­ily doc­tors to in­ves­ti­gate physi­cian stress and burnout. He asked them to de­scribe what they did to be­come re­silient.

The topic res­onated among doc­tors and many took part in the study, which was rec­og­nized for its orig­i­nal re­search.

“It was the first study among ur­ban fam­ily physi­cians in Canada look­ing at this,” Lee says.

Med­i­cal stu­dents tend to be high-achiev­ers and per­fec­tion­ists, very re­li­able and con­sci­en­tious, Lee says. They are per­son­al­ity traits that can “make it hard on you if things go wrong.”

And fe­male pro­fes­sion­als are still largely re­lied upon for house­hold du­ties.

Then there’s a fam­ily doc­tor’s prac­tice – life-and-death de­ci­sions, lis­ten­ing as pa­tients “bare their soul,” deal­ing with pa­tient is­sues like abuse, nav­i­gat­ing an of­ten “be­wil­der­ing” health-care sys­tem that >>

>> has limited re­sources, Lee says. He learned some valu­able lessons. “Ex­plor­ing the topic and in­ter­view­ing many doc­tors helped me with my per­sonal re­silience,” he says.

These days, Lee plays ten­nis four times a week at Water­loo Ten­nis Club in Water­loo Park.

Ex­cept in win­ter, he rides his bike from his Kitch­ener home to work in down­town Kitch­ener — a 10-kilo­me­tre, half-hour trip that gives him time to re­flect, he says. “It makes me feel good be­cause I get ex­er­cise and I feel like it’s a nice en­vi­ron­men­tal thing to do and a good role model for our kids.”

He plays golf reg­u­larly in the sum­mer and en­joys travel to other coun­tries where he might also in­ves­ti­gate a new re­la­tion­ship with a med­i­cal school. He finds it re­fresh­ing to teach med­i­cal stu­dents.

“I do weekly re­flec­tion try­ing to align val­ues with be­hav­iours and build my weekly sched­ule to fit this,” he says. “I step back and look at the big pic­ture.

“People are stressed when what they do, or their be­hav­iour, doesn’t fit with what they value,” he says.

“I try to make sure I do things that re­flect some of the hats that are im­por­tant to me – hus­band, fa­ther, physi­cian, ed­u­ca­tor,” he says. “I al­most never watch TV and I find it’s OK to ad­just my sched­ule.”

He of­ten thinks of his late fa­ther, a chemical en­gi­neer who left en­gi­neer­ing to start the first Chi­nese frozen food com­pany in Canada. “When I was young, he and our fam­ily sold the busi­ness and we trav­elled around the world for a year.” In the 1960s, “it was a weird and won­der­ful thing to do,” he says.

In the 1970s, his fa­ther im­ported woks from China in an­other ground-break­ing busi­ness. Lee’s mother and fa­ther were among the first Cana­di­ans to be al­lowed into China in 1970 af­ter then-prime min­is­ter Pierre Trudeau es­tab­lished of­fi­cial re­la­tions with the coun­try.

“I’m fol­low­ing my late fa­ther’s ad­vice – ev­ery once in awhile try and change what you do,” Lee says. “I mix things to en­hance my work.”

That in­cludes go­ing out­side his com­fort zone, which he did when he learned how to ski, or sang on stage at a physi­cian talent night fundraiser he helped or­ga­nize. “It’s a bit scary but what’s the worse that can hap­pen?” he says.

Re­cently, he took a lead­er­ship role in launch­ing the area’s Health Link, a new med­i­cal pro­gram that co-or­di­nates care pro­vided by dif­fer­ent agencies to people with the most com­plex med­i­cal needs.

Lee praises young people for seek­ing bal­ance in their lives. “They have no prob­lem mak­ing sure they have fun,” he says. “This gen­er­a­tion of doc­tors we train, they do a lot more things than we did. They go out more and go to the gym. They have more of an aware­ness” of stress and how to man­age it.

Pho­tog­ra­phy Mathew McCarthy

Pho­tog­ra­phy Peter Tym

Richard Hepditch, new fire chief in Water­loo, says yoga is an im­por­tant part of his pre-work rou­tine. He also coaches his chil­dren’s hockey and soc­cer teams.

Pho­tog­ra­phy Mathew McCarthy

Lori San­tos, a se­nior fi­nan­cial an­a­lyst at Man­ulife Fi­nan­cial, likes to un­wind by giv­ing back to the com­mu­nity as a vol­un­teer with Nu­tri­tion for Learn­ing.

Pho­tog­ra­phy David Bebee

Sandi Hall, web­mas­ter at Water­loo Pub­lic Li­brary, takes out her stress in train­ing ses­sions with Kitch­ener boxer and gym owner Syd Van­der­pool.

Pho­tog­ra­phy Peter Tym

Dr. Joseph Lee plays ten­nis reg­u­larly as well as en­joy­ing cy­cling, golf­ing and travel.

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