I’ve just gotten back to Sydney after traveling, running on barely two hours of sleep over the past couple of days thanks to jet lag and insomnia. Fueled by way too much caffeine, I don’t realize how exhausted I actually am and decide to go for a run along the Bondi promenade.

Halfway through, everything hits at once—dizziness, blurred vision, shaky legs. I stumble and go down near the promenade, struggling to sit up and catch my breath.

A bystander calls out, “Hey! Can someone get a lifeguard?”

Moments later, a few lifeguards jog over—Maxi, and Deano.

“Alright, mate, don’t try to get up just yet,” one of them says calmly, crouching beside me. “Can you tell us your name?” another asks. Deano kneels closer, voice steady. “You’re alright. Just focus on your breathing for me. What happened—any sleep, food, water today?”

I’m clearly exhausted, disoriented, and embarrassed for pushing myself too far.