It was difficult for Mary to admit that most of her workout consisted of exercising poor judgment. For instance: joining a gym called Primal Results because the logo featured a wolf lifting a barbell. The place had opened two weeks ago in a converted warehouse on the edge of town. No website, no reviews, just a banner that promised transformative fitness. Mary signed up immediately. “Leg day builds character,” the trainer said during her first session. The trainer’s name was Darren, which was suspicious already, but what bothered Mary most was that he never seemed to sweat. Everyone else in the class did endless lunges down the long concrete corridor that ran behind the gym. “Push past your limits,” Darren called. So they pushed. Down the corridor. Past the weight racks. Past the back doors. Out onto a narrow asphalt road Mary was fairly certain hadn’t been there before. “Is this part of the workout?” she asked. “Keep moving,” Darren said. The class jogged forward obediently. Influenced by peer pressure, mild panic, and a surprising amount of motivational yelling. The road stretched on. Ten minutes. Twenty. “Uh,” someone said, breathing hard. “Where are we?” Darren stopped. “Transformation takes commitment,” he said calmly. Mary turned around to see how far they’d come. She expected to see the warehouse. Instead there was only a pale stretch of empty dirt. No gym. No parking lot. No sign that any building had ever existed. Mary sighed. “Well,” she said. “That’s on me.” The road behind them disappeared, as if it had never been there at all.