It was difficult for Mary to admit that most of her workout consisted of exercising poor judgment. Her therapist called it “pattern repetition.” Mary called it Tuesday. This week’s example: agreeing to attend a self-improvement retreat led by a man named Greg who referred to himself as a “life architect.” The retreat began with a scenic drive. “Growth requires forward motion,” Greg announced from the driver’s seat of a borrowed van. Mary sat in the back with six strangers and a cooler full of kale smoothies. “How long is the drive?” someone asked. “As long as it takes,” Greg said mysteriously. They drove for hours. Greg delivered motivational speeches about leaving the past behind. “Your mistakes don’t define you,” he said. Mary leaned toward the window and watched the countryside blur past. “Good,” she muttered. “Because mine are doing cardio.” Eventually Greg stopped the van. “We’ve arrived,” he said. At what appeared to be… nothing. Just a quiet stretch of road cutting through empty land. Greg spread his arms dramatically. “Step out,” he said. “Leave your old life behind.” Mary stepped onto the asphalt. The wind was warm. The sky huge and pale. “Now what?” someone asked. Greg smiled. “Now you move forward.” Mary glanced behind them. The van was still there. But the miles of road they had driven in on were gone. No pavement. No hills. No retreat center waiting somewhere back there. Just open land. Mary sighed. “Greg,” she said. “I swear if this is a metaphor...” The road behind them disappeared, as if it had never been there at all.