Behind closed doors

A strong woman you are.
You run so the weight of the world cannot rest squarely on your shoulders.
Running and feeling a high.
But that weight, those demons, the inertia, all have a strange way of catching up to you.
Your legs grow weary, your resolve, weak.
The weight sits on your shoulders and you collapse behind closed doors.
But few doors stay shut forever.
The doors swing open, and there you are, again, a strong woman.