Returning to the crime scene

Sometimes we are lucky enough to have the opportunity to rewrite a mistake, a failure, or, put more kindly, a misadventure. It takes courage to look back honestly, return to something unfinished, or try again with greater care and clarity. I feel lucky to have found that courage again and again throughout my life.

And it is with that courage that I choose to retrace a path that I could not complete. A failure born of an unfortunate moment that turned into months of struggle. This time, I spent two months doing the work necessary to safely set myself up for success.

Chest pain at Wasson Peak

October 10^thIn January 2025, I woke up early with plans to do a longer, slightly more difficult hike. After a serious back injury seven months earlier, I had slowly regained my health. I had lost all my physical fitness and at the same time gained 20 pounds. Each week, I carefully increased the miles or elevation. This was going to be the first time I increased both!

Still, I struggled with my ego before sensibly choosing a more reasonable 7.5 mile hike with only 2,000 feet of elevation gain. I was really afraid of re-injuring my back, so I forced myself to take it easy. I modified my pace so I never felt like I was working too hard. I kept my breathing calm and watched my heart rate on my Apple Watch, not wanting it to go over 140.

As I was climbing, I started to feel a pain in my chest. I slowed my pace, slowed my heart rate, and focused on my breathing, but I kept going. The pain continued to get worse. As someone who lives with anxiety and experiences panic attacks, I immediately used my coping mechanisms…but these didn’t feel like my normal anxiety attacks. My chest hurt and it radiated to my shoulder. My head was also pounding. For months, I had been dealing with headaches and blurred vision, likely related to my persistently high blood pressure. At my primary care doctor’s office, ten days before this hike, my blood pressure was 160/120, which was when I agreed to start antihypertensive medications.

I stopped to rest and drink some water, but I felt shaky. I forced myself to swallow a granola bar. The pain did not improve. I was 3 miles into the hike with another 600′ of climbing before reaching the top of Wasson Peak. I decided to turn around and head back to the car, doing an out-and-back hike instead of the planned loop. There was no need to continue climbing today if I wasn’t feeling well.

I slowly made my way down the mountain and back to my car for the next hour and fifteen minutes. I thought about some episodes of chest pain and palpitations I had recently experienced on busy days at work—symptoms that I found worrying but ignored because they resolved with rest. As I walked, I wondered if this was a medical emergency that required a trip to the emergency room. As a CVICU nurse, I knew a thing or two about the heart, although I can’t seem to apply my knowledge to myself while ignoring my symptomatic hypertension for months.

The hospital I worked at was on the way home and I decided to re-evaluate it as I got closer. The trip took approximately 45 minutes, enough time for the symptoms to disappear.

But they didn’t.

I kept hearing my own voice telling my patients their discharge instructions: «If your chest pain doesn’t go away with rest, go to the emergency room.»

I didn’t want to go to the emergency room.

Find out what was wrong

I won’t recount the details of the time I spent in the emergency room. After all the tests were completed, nothing wrong was found in my heart. The ER doctor told me it was probably just anxiety (eyes rolling). My blood pressure was 140/100 in the ER. I think it’s more likely that my symptoms were caused by my blood pressure rising to a dangerous level while I was exercising.

I was relieved but also embarrassed to have to go to the emergency room. I often have memories of a previous patient who had my exact birthday. He went into cardiac arrest during spin class, but thanks to the quick actions of the people around him, he returned to this world and survived. There would be no one to shock me or perform CPR if I went into cardiac arrest during a hike. It was better to have it checked out than to have something wrong and not know it until it was too late.

My primary care doctor increased my blood pressure medications and I no longer had any chest pain at work or while exercising. Further tests with a cardiologist showed that there was no problem with my heart. The cardiologist told me to lose weight (another giant eye roll). I don’t think being fat and anxious is the cause of my sudden high blood pressure, as I have been slightly overweight and have always been anxious my entire life with perfectly normal blood pressure. But no advice or information other than «lose weight» is provided.

Two months of intentional work

For the next two months, I trained consistently and cautiously, adding miles and elevation. I also went to physical therapy sessions twice a week and did my exercises almost every day. Once my blood pressure reached 100/60, I slowly tapered off my blood pressure medications. My blood pressure has returned to normal and I have not had a high blood pressure reading since. Yes, I lost ten pounds, but most importantly I worked on my cardiovascular endurance. I was now a stronger hiker and ready to tackle Wasson Peak again.

But this hike was not going to be a physical feat for me. It was mental and emotional. I had to break the barrier of thinking: “If I go on a difficult hike, my heart will hurt and I might have a heart attack.” Whether the pain I felt on this hike in October was real or imagined, it certainly left an imprint on me.

My life and overall health changed abruptly after my spinal injury last March. I was scared to have a sudden onset of high blood pressure that lasted for months and caused symptoms like chest pain, palpitations, dizziness, blurred vision, and headaches. I was terrified at how quickly good health was slipping away from me. And because of how slow it was taking me to get back to my starting point.

I had been intentional in both my physical training and my mental training. When I exercised, I made intentional observations about how I felt. I noticed that I never had real chest pain again, even on difficult hikes. By reinforcing realistic, evidence-based beliefs about my heart and my capacity, I was able to think about my cardiovascular system in a factual rather than emotional way. I could rewrite the story I’ve been telling myself, the one in which I became a victim, and turn it into a hero’s story of perseverance and achievement.

Return to the scene and continue forward

When I returned to complete the Wasson Peak Loop, I started the day feeling happy and strong. I decided to go in the opposite direction so that the place where my chest hurt wouldn’t cause a reaction in me. Instead, I passed the rock (on which I had sat to rest and contemplate my own mortality) on the way to the top. I thanked the rock for holding me up on that tough October day and then rejoiced with it now after achieving my original goal of climbing Wasson Peak.

I climbed 2000 feet without taking a break – not to prove myself, not to fight with my ego, but simply because it felt good. Every part of me felt strong during those 3.5 miles to the top.

I had the summit to myself. I saw 360-degree views of Tucson and Saguaro National Park. And then I looked inside. I cried with joy for the fight I have given during the last nine months. For defending me and overcoming the darkness. For rebuilding my health piece by piece after watching it fall apart.

I’m the Jennie who has always been a little anxious and a little overweight. I am the Jennie who feels deeply, understands her complexity, and finds ways to care for herself. I am the Jennie who loves being on the mountain among the plants and loves the soft cadence of her own steps. And I will be the Jennie who can walk marathon days several days in a row on the AZT again. These are the stories I tell myself today.

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