My alarm goes off at 1AM.The house is silent, the world still deep in sleep. By the time most people are turning over in bed, I’m already on the highway. Diesel hum beneath me, highway lights streaking past, black coffee in the cupholder to keep my eyes sharp. The first run eats the early morning. By the time I’ve unloaded that first load of cement powder, half my day is already gone. Sweat soaks through my shirt, dust clings to my boots, and I know there’s still another run waiting for me. That’s my rhythm: two hauls, twelve hours, sun...