It's probably dangerous to admit to a moment of empathy. I'll either get disqualified from ever becoming being a Supreme Court justice or asked to turn in my press card.

But after watching reruns of Sarah Palin's resignation from the governorship, after hearing every grammatically challenged sentence and inconsistent paragraph dissected by some talk show host, I started to (blush) feel her pain.

There was the frozen smile, the vulnerability, the odd grab bag of unfiltered, unedited, unintelligible un-reasons scattered across the lawn. Palin quit to avoid being a quitter. She cut and run as an act of self-sacrifice. She left her job to serve her country.

It wasn't like watching a car wreck. It was like watching a midlife meltdown. It was seeing her self-image as a strong, confident, ambitious woman shaken to the core. All that was holding her together was chewing gum, family and a little righteous anger. What had happened to Sarah the Barracuda? The pit bull with lipstick? The mother of five, moose killer and marathoner who juggled a BlackBerry and a breast pump?

Ten months ago, when John McCain picked her as his running mate, it was like starting a middle-school basketball star in the WNBA. No, the NBA. As governor, she once remarked about an opponent's ability to spout off facts and figures, "Does any of this really matter?" As running mate, a McCain aide said, she doesn't even know what she doesn't know.

I never believed that it would be easy for Palin to go back to Alaska after the bright lights, big cities lure of a national campaign. But I didn't expect this.

"Life is about choices," she said. I guess her choices were: wrestling with a state legislature, paying lawyers' fees for ethics investigations, and putting her kids through the wringer. Or making a bundle as an author and speaking star.

There's been a lot of comparisons made between Palin's rambling resignation speech and Mark Sanford's soul-baring confession of adultery. Sanford fell head-over-heels in love — "Despite the best efforts of my head, my heart cries out for you, your voice, your body" — in ways that made us squirm for him and Argentina. Palin fell in love with her star turn. What we see are two middle-aged politicians discovering they may not be the people they thought they were.

Sanford is not the straight-laced conservative family man he thought he was. Palin is not the pit bull, lipstick on or off, she thought she was. The woman who wanted to win didn't want to govern. The woman who glowed in the limelight wilted in the spotlight. And when the going got tough, she got going ... going ... gone.

There are some who say that this is a clever gamble to run for the presidency. Searching for clues for the future in this decision is a full-time media occupation. I'm guessing she is clueless about what she wants next.

"All options are on the table," she says. But ironically, the soon-to-be-ex-governor and speaker, author and celebrity has only one option. Authenticity? The only job left for Sarah the former Barracuda is to pretend to be a candidate for president. The quitter is now the teaser.

Reach Ellen Goodman at ellengoodman@globe.com.