Week nine. The bar at ninety, and my hands went to exactly the right width on it
without being asked and without being told.

That is the part that undid me. Not the weight. The hands.
They had been holding a phone and a steering wheel for two years
and they had not forgotten anything at all.

Nothing in me forgot anything. It was all just sitting there, waiting to be asked.

The Book of the Fallen — Grind 64:3