Thrive Through Menopause

24/08/2026

𝗧𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆’𝘀 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 #5
“𝗘𝗺𝗶, 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝗚𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲?”
Our beloved feline only daughter, Gromit, passed away on 31 August 2025, after 19 years and 5 months of extraordinary life with us.
But I don’t really think of her as “gone.”
She has simply changed form—from a little body curled up beside us to an invisible presence that still lives in our home, our routines, our minds and, most importantly, our hearts.
We first met Gromit when she was just two weeks old. She was one of five kittens at a local Burmilla breeder, and we fell in love with her at first sight. We waited until she was old enough to come home, and when she finally arrived, we welcomed her as a new member of our family.
She was literally the apple of our eye—「目に入れても痛くない」as we say in Japanese.
Warren named her Gromit after his favourite cartoon character, a male dog. We didn’t care. We adored her exactly as she was.
Over the next 19 years, Gromit gave us a lifetime of memories: road trips through southwest Western Australia, beach walks, bush adventures, swimming in the pool, baths, playing fetch, chasing lizards and climbing trees.
She also gave us some very frightening moments.
She survived two major medical emergencies, including acute kidney failure when she was seven. The vet told us that if we had waited any longer to bring her to the emergency hospital, she might not have survived. From that day on, we became especially conscious of her water intake and nutrition.
And somehow, she always seemed to know when Warren and I needed her.
Whenever we were having a warm, intimate conversation—or even a heated argument—we would often find Gromit sitting right between us.
She was our child, our companion, and sometimes our mediator.
As she grew old, she gradually became frail. She lost much of her sight and hearing and became less independent. But she never lost her appetite—or her ability to make us feel that she was still very much in charge of the household.
When her body finally began to fail and she stopped eating, I faced one of the hardest decisions of my life.
I had always disliked the idea of euthanasia. I believed suffering was something we had to accept because the alternative felt unbearable.
Then I heard the words, “Suffering is optional.”
Something shifted inside me.
After several sleepless nights beside Gromit, I called our trusted mobile vet and asked her to help Gromit die peacefully at home.
I felt enormous guilt.
On that Sunday afternoon, I spent her final four hours holding her on the couch in our sunny patio. I watched the clear Perth sky, felt the gentle breeze, touched her soft fur and listened to her faint breathing. I tried to absorb every sensation and imprint it into my memory.
When the vet arrived, I almost changed my mind.
But fifteen minutes later, Gromit was gone.
I picked up her motionless body and cried.
And then, strangely, my guilt disappeared.
I felt relief.
She was finally free from suffering.
And in that moment, I realised something I had never understood before:
𝗚𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿.
I had never expected to experience motherhood. Yet for almost two decades, I had loved, protected, worried about, cared for and nurtured another living being as my child.
Gromit taught me that motherhood—and unconditional love—doesn’t necessarily come in one particular form.
Even now, her toys and furniture remain where they were. Her ashes rest in a little pouch, and we move her from one of her favourite places to another around our home.
Perhaps that sounds strange.
But to us, Gromit is still part of the family.
She was, is, and always will be our daughter—just in a different form.

𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗻 𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗟𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗼𝗻 #5
𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁. 𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀, 𝗶𝘁 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗲𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝗹𝗸𝘀 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲, 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗰𝗮𝗽𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗮𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘄.

17/08/2026

𝗧𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆’𝘀 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 #4
“𝗘𝗺𝗶, 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶-𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴?”
When I grew up in a small farming community in northern Japan, it was common for three, sometimes four, generations to live under one roof.
My parents were busy working in the rice fields and vegetable patches, so I spent a lot of time with my grandfather, whom I deeply admired and respected. He had many friends who visited him, and I was often surrounded by older people.
As a child, I was fascinated by the idea that growing older meant becoming wiser.
They moved more slowly than my parents, but to my young eyes, they seemed more elegant, sensible and gentle.
As I became a young adult, however, I discovered something disappointing:
𝗪𝗶𝘀𝗱𝗼𝗺 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗼𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝗴𝗲.
Age gives us time. What we do with that time determines whether it gives us wisdom.
There was another influence on how I came to see ageing: my Japanese cultural heritage.
In Japan, there is a deep appreciation for the beauty of impermanence. Cherry blossoms are celebrated precisely because they don’t last. They bloom spectacularly for a short time and then fall.
If they lasted forever, would we treasure them in quite the same way?
Perhaps life is beautiful for the same reason.
When I look at photographs of myself in my twenties and thirties, I can see that my skin was younger and plumper. But I don’t look at that woman and wish I could trade places with her.
Because she didn’t have what I have now.
In my twenties, I often felt self-conscious and had low self-esteem. I struggled with an eating disorder for several years, suppressed difficult emotions and experiences, and rarely talked about them.
I was a people pleaser. I avoided conflict and tried to live according to expectations from the outside world.
I may have looked younger.
But I wasn’t necessarily happier.
I wasn’t looking inward. I was constantly looking outward for validation.
The woman in that old wedding photograph on my dressing cabinet may have had smoother skin, but I wouldn’t trade what I have today for her youth.
Because every year has given me something more valuable:
𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳-𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗺.�𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴.�𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴.�𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲.�𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀.�𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗲.
I don’t want to reverse that journey.
My mentor, Jim Rohn, has also profoundly influenced how I think about ageing. His philosophy never made me see getting older as something to fear or fight. Instead, he encouraged us to recognise life’s seasons, take responsibility for ourselves, look after our bodies and make the most of the time we have.
Now, at 60, I don’t want to spend my remaining years trying to become younger.
I want to discover what a 60-year-old woman can still do.
And 70.
And 80.
I want to keep learning, moving, creating, contributing and experiencing life to the fullest.
This doesn’t mean I don’t care about my health.
Quite the opposite.
I care deeply about healthy longevity.
But recently, I’ve become more conscious of where I place my attention.
If our thoughts and beliefs influence how we experience life, then constantly focusing on what we’re 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 can keep our attention trapped there.
Anti-ageing.
Anti-disease.
Anti-wrinkle.
Anti-Alzheimer’s.
Anti-anything.
The word itself tells us where our attention is going: 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴.
Even my thinking about Alzheimer’s and dementia has evolved. Rather than making prevention the centre of my life, I want my focus to be on 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗹𝘁𝗵𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗲𝘃𝗶𝘁𝘆, 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗹𝘁𝗵, 𝗽𝗵𝘆𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴.
I don’t want to live in fear of what might happen.
I want to live deliberately for what 𝘤𝘢𝘯 happen.
I can’t stop the clock.
And I don’t want to.
Every birthday isn’t a subtraction from my life.
It’s evidence that I’ve been given another year to live.
So no, I don’t believe in anti-ageing.
I believe in 𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹.
I believe in becoming more myself with every season.
And I believe the goal isn’t to look like the woman I used to be.
It’s to become the best version of the woman I can still become.

🐢 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗻 𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗟𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗼𝗻 #4
𝗔 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝘁 30.
It’s about understanding where you are today, respecting the distance you’ve already travelled, and making the most of the kilometres still ahead.
Life is the same.
I don’t want to run backwards.
𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴, 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗸𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗲.

10/08/2026

𝗧𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆’𝘀 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 #3
“𝗘𝗺𝗶, 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿’𝘀 𝗔𝗹𝘇𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗿’𝘀 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻?”
My mother, Masako, was 29 years older than me.
In 1998, the year I migrated to Australia, she had a stroke at just 61.
She had always been active and healthy, although she took prescribed medication to manage relatively high blood pressure.
The stroke came without warning.
Fortunately, she was talking with her neighbours when her speech suddenly became meaningless. One of them immediately recognised that something was wrong and drove her to hospital.
That quick response probably saved her life.
She initially struggled with her speech, but recovered remarkably well. When Warren and I visited Japan the following year after our wedding, she seemed like herself again.
In 2000, my parents visited us in Perth for the first time. They were so happy and thoroughly enjoyed their week with us.
Their second—and last—visit was in 2006, when Mum was turning 70.
Looking back now, I can see the little signs I completely missed at the time.
At Perth Airport, she had eaten half of a sandwich she had bought in Japan and forgot to throw the rest away. A quarantine officer found it in her bag. Thankfully, he understood it was an innocent mistake, took the sandwich away and let her go.
During their stay, Mum often became lost inside our relatively new home and holiday accommodation.
While we were driving along the Swan River, she asked the same question five times in about half an hour:
“𝗔𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗵?”
I also noticed that her wardrobe choices had changed. She had always been fashionable, particularly when travelling overseas.
But I didn’t connect these things with dementia.
Even when we visited Japan in 2008, I didn’t understand what was happening.
Then, in 2009, my sister-in-law told me that Mum was becoming increasingly forgetful. There had also been several near-misses with her cooking on the stove.
My family encouraged her to see a doctor.
She refused.
“𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝗲!”
By 2010, which I now call the year of my turning point, I finally saw the extent of the change for myself.
Mum had lost so much of her short-term memory.
She had even forgotten how to make her famous daikon pickles—a recipe and tradition she had known for decades.
That was when I realised how seriously we had underestimated her deterioration.
My family couldn’t persuade her to see a doctor. I knew how stubborn and fearful she could be, but this time I challenged her face-to-face.
She cried.
Again and again, she said:
“𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝗲!”
I cried too.
I held her tightly and said:
“𝗔𝗽𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆, 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗲. 𝗟𝗲𝘁’𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴, 𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗮𝘆. 𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴, 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿. 𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗲.”
After I returned to Perth, my father called.
Mum had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.
I spoke to her on the phone afterwards.
She sounded happy.
But from that point, I watched her gradually disappear.
My family cared for her at home for as long as they could. In 2017, she eventually moved into a nursing home, where my family continued to visit her every week.
Then, on the evening of 11 January 2018, my sister-in-law called.
Mum’s condition had suddenly worsened and she had been taken to hospital.
My head went blank.
I booked the next available flight to Japan.
As I was leaving home the following afternoon, the sunflowers in our garden were shining brightly.
For some reason, they reminded me of Mum.
I arrived in time to see her alive in the ICU.
But she was already in a coma, breathing with the help of machines.
I stayed beside her.
She passed away three days later.
I held her hand and said:
“𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗠𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿. 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲.”
Alzheimer’s is one of the cruellest diseases I have ever witnessed.
Because it doesn’t simply affect memory.
It gradually takes away the ability to think, communicate, recognise, make decisions and ultimately maintain independence.
And it doesn’t affect only the person with the disease.
It affects the entire family.
After Mum’s diagnosis, I began wondering:
𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗲?
I knew there could be a genetic component. I learned about APOE ε4 and realised that having a family history could increase my own risk.
At first, that frightened me.
Then something else happened.
I became curious.
Instead of simply worrying about my future, I wanted to understand the brain.
I became a student of Alzheimer’s disease.
I read Dr Dale Bredesen’s work. I attended online brain health summits. I read widely, including the work of Dr David Perlmutter.
Then I discovered Dr Lisa Mosconi and her research into women’s brains, menopause and brain health.
I learned that Alzheimer’s disease doesn’t suddenly appear on the day someone receives a diagnosis. The biological changes associated with the disease can develop many years before symptoms become obvious.
I also learned something that changed the way I think about my genes:
𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁—𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝘆.
Our lifestyle, environment and many other factors can influence how our genetic risks are expressed.
That gave me hope.
And looking back, something remarkable happened.
In 2010—the very year I watched my mother’s cognitive decline and decided I needed to take my own health seriously—I unknowingly began changing the trajectory of my own life.
I started running.
I became more conscious of nutrition, exercise, sleep, stress, relationships and lifelong learning.
I began paying attention to my physical health, but also my mental and emotional wellbeing.
I didn’t know then that I was preparing myself for the next chapter of my life.
I was simply trying to become healthier.
Today, I don’t want to live in fear of Alzheimer’s.
I don’t know what my genes will ultimately say.
None of us can know exactly what the future holds.
But I do know this:
𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆.
My mother taught me that.
Her life gave me a reason to become a student of my own brain.
Her illness gave me a reason to take prevention seriously.
And her memory gives me a reason to keep moving forward.
I am not trying to prove that I can outrun my genes.
I am trying to discover what a human being can do with the life she has been given.
At 60, I feel healthier, happier and more alive than ever.
And I am still running.
Still learning.
Still challenging myself.
Still chasing my Boston Marathon dream.
Because perhaps protecting our brains isn’t simply about avoiding a disease.
Perhaps it’s about 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲, 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸, 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲, 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲.
That is the legacy I want to create from my mother’s story.
Not fear.
𝗔𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻.
Not inevitability.
𝗣𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆.
And not waiting for tomorrow.
𝗟𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆.

𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗻 𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗟𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗼𝗻 #3 🐢
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦.

03/08/2026

𝗧𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆’𝘀 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 #2
“𝗘𝗺𝗶, 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗽𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲?”
I’ve literally run through both 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗽𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲.
I started jogging at 44, long before menopause entered my vocabulary. Around 49, I began experiencing the first signs of perimenopause. At 51, I completed my first half marathon, only to be sidelined by a foot injury. At 52, after my second half marathon and first full marathon, I developed the infamous runner’s knee—IT Band Syndrome (ITBS).
As my running mileage increased, so did the injuries.
Like many people, I searched endlessly for answers. Most English and Japanese sources blamed overtraining or overpronation. But something didn’t quite add up.
Then I discovered running coach Jason Fitzgerald’s work on strength training. Based on his experience as a competitive runner, he explained that many cases of ITBS stem from weak hip muscles.
That was my “Aha!” moment.
I bought resistance bands, dumbbells and a medicine ball, and faithfully followed a strength-training program. The difference was remarkable. Since then, strength training has become just as important to me as running itself.
At 53, another challenge appeared—tennis elbow and a weak wrist. It became difficult not only to run but even to do everyday activities like gardening. I tried physiotherapy, ultrasound treatment, electrical stimulation and Bowen Therapy, but nothing seemed to work.
Then I remembered a friend telling me that her tennis elbow had taken almost 18 months to heal. It made me wonder whether hormones were playing a role. At that time, very little had been written about the connection between perimenopause and tendon problems, but eventually I found an article explaining the possible link.
That discovery didn’t instantly heal my elbow, but it healed something else—my mind.
I finally understood that I wasn’t weak or imagining things. My body was going through one of the biggest hormonal transitions of my life.
Looking back, 2019 was probably the hardest year of my perimenopause. Running and gardening had always been my therapy, and suddenly the very activities that helped me manage stress and emotions were taken away.
I reached menopause around 57. Unlike our first period, there was no fanfare or clear milestone—just a quiet transition.
People often talk about menopause as though it’s only about loss. My experience has been different.
Yes, there were challenges. But there were also unexpected gifts.
No more periods! For a female marathon runner, that’s a blessing. Ironically, my first marathon was made even harder by both ITBS and a heavy perimenopausal period.
More importantly, running taught me to pay attention.
It taught me to notice the subtle changes happening in my body, my mind and my emotions. Instead of fighting those changes, I learned to work with them. I stopped expecting my 50-year-old body to behave like my 30-year-old body.
For much of my younger life, I was my own harshest critic. Running through menopause taught me something far more valuable than how to finish a marathon.
It taught me to listen to myself.
To be kinder to myself.
To appreciate what my body can still do instead of dwelling on what it can’t.
Today, I continue studying the latest research on women’s health because I want to understand this new chapter rather than fear it.
When people ask me what running taught me about menopause, my answer is simple.
𝗠𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗽𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻’𝘁 𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝘆 𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗷𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘆. 𝗜𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿—𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻—𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴.

🐢 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗻 𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗟𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗼𝗻 #2:
𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘯—𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴.

27/07/2026

𝗧𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆’𝘀 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 #1
“𝗘𝗺𝗶, 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘁 44 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻?”
𝗠𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗮𝘆, 24 𝗠𝗮𝘆 2010 — 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗠𝘆 𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲
Some days change your life without any warning.
It was a beautiful autumn morning in Perth. After running an errand at the local bank, I heard a quiet but unmistakable inner voice:
“𝘓𝘦𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘫𝘰𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨.”
It wasn’t loud or dramatic. Just calm, clear, and strangely convincing.
I thought to myself, 𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭.
So I did.
I jogged 4 kilometres from my home to the nearby river jetty and back. My legs were sore, my lungs were protesting, but I felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.
Like many people, my only experience with running had been compulsory school sports. During my adult years in Japan, I had even been a smoker and lived far from what anyone would call a healthy lifestyle. I was genuinely surprised that I could still jog in my mid-forties.
The following day, every muscle in my body ached. I even had to stop and walk halfway through my run.
That was the humble beginning of a journey that has now lasted more than sixteen years.
Looking back, I realise I wasn’t just discovering running.
I was discovering my strategy for lifelong health.
I experimented with running at different times of the day. Morning, afternoon, evening—I tried them all. Before long, I realised I felt strongest running before sunrise.
To my own surprise, I transformed from a lifelong night owl into an early riser.
Around the same time, I discovered Jim Rohn’s philosophy. One of his messages deeply resonated with me:
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.”
Running became my first small step in changing that direction.
It required very little. No expensive equipment. No gym membership. Just a good pair of running shoes and the willingness to begin.
Jim Rohn often said that even something as simple as eating one apple a day could build self-respect because you keep the promise you made to yourself.
Running did exactly that for me.
Five kilometres a day, about five days a week, gradually changed far more than my fitness.
I became stronger.
More resilient.
More disciplined.
My body stopped tiring so easily, but something even more important happened—my mind became stronger too.
Almost every run became a mobile classroom as I listened to Jim Rohn’s audio programs. Those early morning kilometres shaped both my body and my thinking.
Running gave me confidence.
It taught me consistency.
It became my meditation in motion.
Then, at 49, another unexpected challenge arrived: perimenopause.
At the time, I had never even heard the word.
I simply noticed that I was sweating far more than usual, so I added swimming in our backyard pool after my runs to cool down.
Over the following years I experienced many of the physical and emotional changes that accompany perimenopause. I explored a wide range of holistic approaches to support my health, but one habit remained constant.
Running became the backbone of my wellbeing.
It didn’t solve every problem, but it gave me the physical strength, emotional stability and mental resilience to keep moving forward.
Eventually, I entered my first running race.
To be honest, I initially thought races were a waste of time and money. I wasn’t interested in competing against other people.
How wrong I was.
Racing wasn’t really about competing with others.
It was about discovering what I was capable of.
Training for races taught me how to prepare both physically and mentally, how to handle pressure, how to recover from setbacks, and perhaps most importantly, how to care for myself with patience instead of criticism.
Today, after more than sixteen years of running, my goal is no longer simply to finish another race.
I want to stay healthy and strong enough to keep running for as long as I possibly can.
People sometimes ask whether I’m addicted to running.
Perhaps I am.
But I think it’s something deeper than that.
I’m addicted to becoming a better version of myself—one run at a time.
🐢 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗲𝗼𝘂𝘀 4-𝗸𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗲 𝗷𝗼𝗴 𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗴𝗲 44 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗹𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗲𝗿, 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲. 𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁.

16/07/2026

𝗠𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗿 𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘆𝗹𝗲? 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗹𝘁𝗵𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻.
I was reading the latest trends in medication use in Australia, and the numbers tell an interesting story.

Australia is making medicines more affordable through the Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme (PBS), with lower co-payments and expanded access to treatments for conditions such as menopause, severe asthma and cancer. At the same time, prescriptions for ADHD medications have tripled over the past decade, and chronic disease medications continue to dominate dispensing across the country.

These changes reflect remarkable advances in modern medicine. We are fortunate to live in a country where life-changing medications are increasingly accessible.

Yet the data also made me pause.

At 60, I don’t take any prescribed medication—not even over-the-counter painkillers or antihistamines.

I’m not saying this because I believe medication is unnecessary. Far from it. Medicines save lives, relieve suffering, and help millions of people live healthier, longer lives. If I ever need them, I’ll be grateful they exist.

But my personal goal has always been to delay that day for as long as possible.

For me, that means investing every day in the habits that medicine cannot replace:
🏃‍♀️ Regular exercise
🥗 Nutritious whole foods
💪 Strength training to protect muscle and bone
😴 Quality sleep
🧘 Managing stress
❤️ Nurturing meaningful relationships
📚 Continually learning and staying mentally engaged

As Jim Rohn famously said,
“𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦.”

As someone who is now thriving in my 60s, I believe health is built through thousands of small daily choices, not one dramatic intervention.

Modern medicine is extraordinary at treating disease.

A healthy lifestyle is extraordinary at helping prevent it.

Perhaps the future of healthcare isn’t about choosing one over the other—but recognising that prevention and treatment are partners, not competitors.

The best prescription may be the one you never need because of the choices you make today.'

What are the daily habits that have had the biggest impact on your health?

𝘐’𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴. 𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴—𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘐’𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦.

𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.

15/07/2026

As I’ve grown older, I’ve realised that the greatest luxury isn’t owning more things—it’s having the freedom to spend my time on what matters most: my health, my husband, meaningful work, running, and the people I love.

15/07/2026

𝗜𝘀 𝗛𝗲𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗰 𝗔𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗤𝘂𝗶𝗲𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗘𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗪𝗲𝗮𝗹𝘁𝗵?
Most of us believe we’d notice if we were wasting money.
But what if the biggest threat to building wealth isn’t overspending…
It’s 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲.

Psychologists call it 𝗵𝗲𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗰 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻—our remarkable ability to quickly adjust to improvements in our lifestyle. The new car becomes just “my car.” The premium streaming service becomes “normal.” The daily café coffee becomes a necessity rather than a treat.

As our expectations rise, so do our expenses—often without increasing our happiness.
The Australian Financial Review recently highlighted two simple questions that can reveal whether lifestyle creep is quietly eroding your wealth.

✅ 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗜𝘀𝗼𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗧𝗲𝘀𝘁
Choose one “invisible” expense you’ve come to accept as normal—a premium subscription, food delivery, or a daily takeaway coffee.
Go without it for one week.
• If you genuinely miss it and it adds real value to your life, keep it.
• If you hardly notice it’s gone, you’ve probably adapted to it. You’re paying simply to maintain a higher spending baseline.

✅ 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗩𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗔𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗻𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗧𝗲𝘀𝘁
Before making a non-essential purchase, ask yourself:
• 𝘐𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘶𝘺 𝘪𝘵?
• 𝘋𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘶𝘦, 𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰?
These two questions are surprisingly powerful.

Another trap is what psychologists call “𝗜’𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻…”
“I’ll be happy when I get a bigger house.”
“…when I buy a newer car.”
“…when I earn just a little more.”
The finish line keeps moving.
Ironically, research shows that our greatest long-term happiness often comes not from accumulating more possessions, but from experiences, meaningful relationships, and having enough financial freedom to spend our time the way we choose.

One idea I particularly like is 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴.
Instead of constantly upgrading your lifestyle, pause and appreciate what you already have. When your income increases, resist the urge to immediately increase your spending. Let your lifestyle improve gradually while your investments and savings quietly grow in the background.
After all, wealth isn’t just about earning more.
It’s about making sure your happiness doesn’t become more expensive every year.

𝗛𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗮 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗵𝗮𝗯𝗶𝘁, 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝗻’𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁—𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻’𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝗶𝘁 𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹?

Forget the budget headlines: here are the two simple questions that reveal if lifestyle creep is quietly eroding your income.

09/07/2026

Could a Popular Joint Supplement Be Doing More Harm Than Good?

For years, glucosamine has been one of the most popular supplements for people living with osteoarthritis and joint pain. Many people take it every day, believing it is a safe way to support joint health.

However, a newly published study in Nature Metabolism has raised an important question.

Researchers from the University of Florida found that, among people with Mild Cognitive Impairment (MCI), glucosamine use was associated with a 25% higher likelihood of progressing to Alzheimer’s disease. In patients already diagnosed with Alzheimer’s or related dementias, glucosamine use was also linked to a 25% higher risk of death over five years.

The researchers suggest a possible explanation. Alzheimer’s disease is associated with abnormal sugar-related changes to proteins in the brain, known as hyperglycosylation. Because glucosamine can cross the blood-brain barrier, it may contribute to this process in vulnerable individuals.

Before we throw away every bottle of glucosamine, however, it’s important to keep the findings in perspective.

This study shows an association, not proof that glucosamine causes Alzheimer’s disease to worsen. The researchers themselves stress that human clinical trials are needed before any firm conclusions can be drawn. Interestingly, some previous studies have even suggested glucosamine may have protective effects in cognitively healthy people.

Nevertheless, the research is a timely reminder that “natural” doesn’t always mean risk-free, particularly as we age.

For those managing osteoarthritis, current clinical guidelines continue to recommend lifestyle strategies as the first line of treatment:
🏃 Regular low-impact exercise
⚖️ Maintaining a healthy weight
💪 Strength training and physiotherapy
🧴 Topical anti-inflammatory treatments when appropriate

These approaches have strong evidence for improving joint function while avoiding the potential systemic effects of oral supplements.

As someone who is passionate about healthy ageing and reducing dementia risk—especially with a family history of Alzheimer’s disease—I find studies like this fascinating. Science is constantly evolving, and sometimes long-held assumptions deserve another look.

If you or a loved one has Mild Cognitive Impairment or dementia and regularly takes glucosamine, it may be worth having a conversation with your GP or specialist about whether it remains the best option.

The goal isn’t to create fear—it’s to make informed decisions based on the latest evidence.

What are your thoughts? Have you ever taken glucosamine, or has your healthcare professional discussed its benefits or risks with you?

A new study shows glucosamine, often taken for osteoarthritis or joint pain, may accelerate the progression of Alzheimer’s disease.