Sweat beading along a barbell before the gym lights are fully on, the steady count going out under your breath while the rest of the building sleeps. You were born with Mars in your sixth house, the house of daily work and the patient care of the body, the broom and the apron and the slow repair, so the drive goes into the doing. You will rework the same task five times until it sits right, the way a craftsman keeps planing a joint nobody else would notice. Routine is the music you actually like. It turns expensive when you push the body until it asks once, then twice, then four times, and you keep going because stopping feels like losing. Learn to listen earlier than that. Treat the training as a craft and not a sentence, the workplace as a dojo and not a grindstone. The whole point of the discipline is the person it slowly builds, never the marks it leaves on the way. The kind of strength that lasts forty years runs on the kind of rest a twenty-year-old would laugh at.