22 Overtired, Tim retreated to the weight room to jam iron. The back corner of the base’s supply tent had been cleared by stacking gear dangerously high to either side, but what wasn’t dangerous in the Army? A trio of benches and stacks of free weights were jammed in the small space. A couple of the heavier dumbbells pinned the tent canvas to the dusty ground. Though the midday heat was scorching beyond the tent, the cool iron felt good, felt familiar in Tim’s hands. He liked the ritual of it. Choosing the start weight. Sliding on the right number of disks. Counting out the reps. Building through days, weeks, now years. Ten pounds here, five reps there. Constructing a routine layer by layer until he could do it in his sleep. Until his body tingled in anticipation, and afterward thrummed