I was covered in a layer of sweat, and my iPhone charger was dangling out of a bag that contained the after-hours work I still needed to do along with a Lara bar, crushed under the weight of my laptop. It should have been obvious: I’d been stressed, and moving way too fast. But, as usual, I didn’t realize it until I was on the train. I poked my head out of my inbox long enough to play peek-a-boo with a toddler clutching her snack, and chat with an older couple en route to vacation. I felt joy, and a familiar pang of shame that comes from realizing you’ve moved too fast to cherish what’s in front of you.