I've only been back training on the Lakefront for three weeks and already I feel like I'm in Lost Highway, the part where there's just the road with the yellow line in your headlights and you keep going and going and going . . . I follow the yellow line on the Lakefront path endlessly turning the pedals, spinning circles, my legs always hurt a little, my breath is always slightly labored, there's always a cold wind chilling the sweat on my arms. Dark or light, sunny or cloudy, there's always the yellow line in front of me.

If I wake up in someone else's body, maybe it could be Mara Abott's. Or Amber Neben's.