Sounds and steps

Today was the first time I've run a half-marathon race. It was also the first time that I've run without wearing headphones and carrying my iPhone's iPod.

And I'm glad I did.

The wind was an obstacle during the run, but it was an instrument too. The harder the wind blew, the louder the rustling of the runners' bibs would be. I'd hold mine down with my hand so as to prevent it from tearing around the safety pins, but as soon as the wind would let up a little, I'd let go, and the remnant of the draft would enter through the left side, give a quick rattle, and exit through the right.

There was so much wind today, that the bib song happened several times.

The cheering was very motivating during the run, as were the runners' applause and "thank you"s. Baltimore natives and runners' family members and friends lined the streets and yelled shouts of inspiration and motivation, clapped their clappers, played loud music out of car stereos. Even their signs sang to us--most of them humorous, most of them making us laugh, the laughter always pushing us forward in good spirits. 

There was so much support today, that the cheers were audible most of the route.

The steps of the runners crescendoed and diminuendoed, except in the gaps when I was mostly alone and could only hear my breathing. Thousand of running shoes genuflected to the Baltimore streets, praying for survival and completion and relieving their host roads of their pressure and weight during the split seconds they'd lift between strides. As a runner in the crowd, I could hear that communal shoe hymn. When by myself, my shoes' prayers were drowned out by the sound of my reading of Al Fati7a, my conversations with Siddi (Allah yir7amo), or my breathing. 

There was constant audible breathing today, that life was on high definition surround-sound during the entire 13.1 miles.

Al 7amdulilah for headphone-less and music-filled experiences.