The author (not pictured) was diagnosed with a cardiac issue and could not raise her heartbeat. lechatnoir/Getty Images 2025-04-13T19:39:01Z Save Saved Read in app This story is available exclusively to Business Insider subscribers. Become an Insider and start reading now. Have an account? I've always been a fast walker, and my friends made fun of me. I moved to New York City in 2013 and fit right in. Then, at 29, I was diagnosed with a cardiac issue and had to become a slow walker myself. I've always been a speedy walker.Growing up in Arizona and Michigan, my friends laughed at the long hikes I'd take in my neighborhood in the extreme heat and cold. So, when I started college in Manhattan in 2013, I fit right into the swiftness of the city.I felt proud when my parents first came to visit and commented on how well I matched everyone's pace. Like many New Yorkers, I came to look down on slow striders and openly complained about them.Then I got sickTourists, in particular, were a frequent target — I could almost always tell when someone was from out of town strictly by their steps. To me, it was a sign that they didn't fully respect our fast-moving culture. I felt a responsibility to zigzag ahead when people weren't going fast enough, following the unspoken law of the land. With the very young, older people or anyone with a clear physical impairment, I cut some slack. But I found it embarrassing when my peers couldn't keep up.That all changed earlier this year when I was diagnosed with a cardiac problem that kept me on near-bedrest for almost two months. Even though I was healthy and only 29, I couldn't do anything that would raise my heart rate, including taking stairs or even walking more than a few steps at a time. For the first time, I was the one going at a glacial pace. "Don't worry about others. Go at the pace you need," my fiancé said as he strode slowly alongside me, helping me with daily tasks like carrying groceries or picking up medication.But I couldn't shake the rude looks from others and the annoyance of being constantly cut off when I went outside. I learned to contort my body, almost subconsciously, to let people pass whenever I heard them approaching behind me. The author had to slow down because of a health issue. Courtesy of the author I knew that when people looked at me, they probably wouldn't suspect anything was wrong. I wished I could wear a sign on my face saying, "You don't know what I'm experiencing right now." I became less judgmentalAs I continued my bedrest, only leaving the house a few minutes a day, I finally sawThe hardest part of my condition was realizing how inaccessible daily life could be. When I needed to take a train, I had to find stations with an elevator or escalator, which was more challenging than I realized. Simple things like working out to release stress were no longer possible. I often found myself going crazy at home, bored and angry that I couldn't access the outside world like everyone else.I don't feel like fast walking anymoreThese days, my condition has mostly improved, so I'm moving again — albeit not as briskly as normal. Whenever I see slow amblers now, I feel a sense of solidarity. Of course, not everyone who walks slowly does so for a hidden medical reason. But aside from the few times when I will need to be in an extreme rush, I don't feel the same pull to hurry just for the sake of it anymore.Weeks ago, when I finally went on a Central Park walk with my friends for the first time in months, I apologized for being so slow. "It's actually better we're not going super fast," one said, pointing out the beautiful trees that had just started to bloom. "We'd rather take it all in." Recommended video