That moment when someone defines when they've pushed their limits and when they've exceeded them.
In and out. Inhale. Exhale. She stopped and opened her eyes. She had pushed herself to her physical limits by running as fast and for as long as she could until her body would no longer allow her to move. It started as a simple power walk around the neighborhood and progressed into a jog. Before she knew it, she was lying in grass in a park on the other side of town. There was something liberating about her daily walks. Some days she felt the urge to take off running. On this day she did.
Her feet hurt. Her thighs tingled. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest she thought it would burst. It felt like her breath would never be restored. So she lay there. Staring up at the sky. Appearing to passersby as someone simply admiring the clouds on a partly sunny day. In reality, she knew she had done exactly what she should not have: moved too fast. As her senses calmed, she learned that if she knew nothing else, she knew her limits. Always being one to rush into things, she jumped headfirst into jobs, relationships and broken promises. Still, lessons went unlearned. Patience is a virtue, or so she had heard. Stop and smell the roses. Enjoy the view. She had ran so fast and so hard beyond what she was capable of doing. Not only testing the waters, but drowning in them. Now she had no choice but to enjoy the view.