Additional Coverage:
- I used to hate slow walkers. Then I got sick and I became one of them. (businessinsider.com)
From Fast-Paced New Yorker to Slow Walker: A Change of Pace and Perspective
I’ve always been a fast walker. Growing up in Arizona and Michigan, my long strides were a source of amusement for my friends.
When I moved to New York City for college in 2013, my speed walking seemed perfectly suited to the city’s rhythm. My parents even commented on how well I blended in with the fast-paced crowds.
Like many New Yorkers, I developed a certain impatience for slower pedestrians, especially tourists. I saw their pace as a sign they didn’t quite grasp the city’s fast-moving culture.
I felt an unspoken obligation to navigate around them, adhering to the unwritten law of the urban jungle. While I was more understanding with children, seniors, and those with visible impairments, I admit I judged my peers who couldn’t keep up.
My perspective changed drastically earlier this year. At 29, I was diagnosed with a cardiac issue that required near-bedrest for two months.
Anything that elevated my heart rate, even climbing stairs or walking more than a few steps, was off-limits. Suddenly, I was the slow one.
My fiancé was incredibly supportive, patiently walking beside me and helping with everyday tasks. But I couldn’t ignore the impatient glances and the constant need to step aside to let others pass.
It was a humbling experience. I longed to wear a sign explaining my situation, wishing people understood what I was going through.
Confined to bedrest with only brief outings, I began to see slow walkers in a new light. I noticed the small adjustments elderly individuals made, constantly yielding to others.
I observed young children walking home from school, their pace reflecting their wonder at the world around them. Friends and couples strolled leisurely, enjoying each other’s company, not rushing to their destination.
These observations brought me a sense of comfort, a reminder that it was okay to move at my own pace.
My condition also highlighted the challenges of navigating a world designed for the able-bodied. Finding accessible subway stations with elevators or escalators was more difficult than I’d imagined.
Simple things like exercising to relieve stress became impossible. I often felt trapped and frustrated by my limited access to the outside world.
Now, my health has improved, and I’m moving around more, though not at my previous speed. I feel a kinship with other slow walkers.
I understand that not everyone has a visible reason for their pace, and my experience has taught me patience and empathy. Except for those rare moments when I’m truly in a rush, I no longer feel the need to hurry just for the sake of it.
Recently, I enjoyed my first walk in Central Park with friends in months. I apologized for my slow pace.
One friend pointed to the blooming trees and said, “It’s actually better we’re not going super fast. We’d rather take it all in.”
It was a perfect reminder of the beauty I might have missed had I not learned to slow down.
Read More About This Story:
- I used to hate slow walkers. Then I got sick and I became one of them. (businessinsider.com)