Okay, friend. Pour yourself something and settle in, because this one's a doozy.
If you've read some of my other journeys, you know the last decade knocked me around a bit. But, before my life got completely out of control, my body tried to warn me — and I didn't listen. Honestly, neither did my doctor.
The "Compliment" That Was Actually a Red Flag
A few years ago, I lost 20 pounds in one year without trying. I know. I KNOW. Every woman reading this just rolled her eyes, because unexplained weight loss sounds like winning the lottery when you're our age.
I chalked it up to pickleball — I was playing 4-5 times a week and feeling like an athlete. But I was also having shortness of breath, weird burning chest pains, and shoulder pain. I mentioned all of it at my annual checkup. My bloodwork came back squeaky clean, and I walked out with a prescription for stronger Pepcid and a diagnosis of "heartburn and anxiety."
And listen — I believed it. I was a single mom of two teenagers with a full-time executive job, a small side business, several volunteer commitments, divorce debt, home renovations, and four dogs. FOUR. Of course I was anxious. Anxiety was basically my personality at that point.
The Night Everything Changed
Then one summer evening, after two hours of pickleball, I came home feeling very hot and sick to my stomach. Then sharp stomach pains. Then crushing, squeezing chest pain. Then pain in my collarbone. Then my hands and feet started going numb. I couldn't take a deep breath, I could not stand.
I kept thinking, Is this a heart attack? It can't be. I'm too young. My doctor just gave me a glowing report a few months ago.
Girlfriend, I went to the ER. And after a million tests, it turned out I was having a cardiac event caused by undiagnosed myopericarditis— inflammation around my heart that I'd likely had for months. Maybe longer. THAT was what caused the weight loss. Not pickleball. My heart had been struggling this whole time, and the "heartburn and anxiety" were my body screaming for help.
The lesson I want you to take from this: You know your body. If something feels wrong and the answer you're given doesn't sit right, push. Ask again. Get a second opinion. Unexplained weight loss, chest pain, shortness of breath — those deserve more than a stronger antacid. I'm not a doctor, and this isn't medical advice — it's girlfriend advice from someone who learned it the hard way.
The Long, Frustrating Road Back
Here's the part nobody tells you about heart inflammation: a big part of the treatment is doing nothing. Your heart needs rest to heal. So for seven months, I couldn't exercise. At all.
And while my heart healed, everything else fell apart. The house. The routines. My motivation. And — feeling thoroughly sorry for myself — I ate. All 20 pounds came back and made themselves comfortable.
When I finally got cleared to play pickleball again, I eased back in — once or twice a week instead of my old 4-5. And just as I was feeling like myself again? RSV. What? I mean isn't that for toddlers?? Uggh... Weeks on the couch coughing up a lung and feeling miserable.
Finally recovered from that, went back to pickleball, and promptly injured my proximal hamstring tendon and hamstring. Months of physical therapy. Benched again for 5 months.
So here I am: heavier than I want to be, unhappy with myself on my bad days, still not playing the way I used to, and now my back hurts (that's a whole other post, trust me). If you're keeping score, that's a heart condition, a nasty virus, and a nagging injury in a row — my body clearly has opinions about my comeback plans.
What I'm Actually Doing About It (Spoiler: It's Embarrassingly Simple)
I can't do strength training yet. I can't play pickleball like I used to. But you know what I can do?
Walk. After meals. Ten minutes. That's it.
My current routine: at least 10 minutes of walking after every meal (outside when I can, laps around the house when I can't), plus one 30-minute walk a day. Obviously this is whenever possible...some days it simply isn't possible because I may be at a lunch meeting or work or whatever, but that's okay. If I can get this routine down more days than not, I'm happy.
And here's the best part — the walking doesn't even have to be fast. I'm not power-walking with weights in my hands. I'm not tracking my pace or trying to break a sweat. This is a stroll. Just... walk. That's the whole assignment.
And here's the thing — it's working. I've lost 5 pounds in just a few weeks. No diet overhaul. No punishing workout plan. No equipment. Just walking when the fork goes down.
Why Something This Small Actually Works
Now, remember: I'm not a doctor. This is what I've pieced together from my own reading, and it made enough sense to me to try it. Here's my girlfriend-level understanding:
It helps flatten the blood sugar rollercoaster. When you eat, your blood sugar rises. When you move right after eating, your muscles pull that sugar out of your bloodstream and use it as fuel instead of letting it hang around (where it's more likely to get stored as fat). This matters extra for women our age, because perimenopause makes our bodies less efficient at handling blood sugar. Timing is the magic — a 10-minute walk right after a meal seems to punch above its weight compared to the same walk hours later.
It helps digestion. Gentle movement after eating helps things... move along. Less bloating, less of that heavy sluggish feeling, and for me, less reflux — which, given my history with the word "heartburn," feels a little poetic.
It adds up without feeling like exercise. Three 10-minute walks plus my 30-minute walk is an hour of movement a day. If you'd told me to "exercise for an hour daily," I'd have laughed and taken a nap. But 10 minutes after a meal? Anyone can do 10 minutes.
It's kind to a body that's been through it. No pounding, no strain on my healing hamstring, no stress on my heart. My cardiologist-approved level of gentle.
It clears my head. That after-lunch walk has quietly become a mental reset button. Ten minutes outside and I come back a slightly less frazzled version of myself.
Your Tiny Challenge (If You Want In)
This is my first step back — not my whole plan. Once my back cooperates, pickleball and strength training are on the list. But I've learned my lesson about doing too much too fast.
So here's the challenge I'm giving myself, and you're welcome to join me if you are physically capable of walking:
After every meal, walk for at least 10 minutes. Outside if possible. Inside totally counts.
That's it. Don't change your food yet. Don't buy anything. Don't sign up for anything. Just walk when the meal ends, and see what happens.
I'll report back on my progress — the scale, the energy, all of it. Because that's what we do here: I try things, I tell you the truth about them, and we figure this out together.
One tiny step at a time...and one step closer to balance.
Betty
