Sacred Monotony: Running as Prayer and Rhythm
Have you ever wanted to start running, but something about the unknown held you back? I know that feeling. What if I told you there’s a way through it—a way not just to overcome the fear, but to actually fall in love with running? I want to share a simple practice that’s carried me, and maybe it can carry you too.
For me, it started long before I ever thought about running. The year was 1994, in a small neighborhood on the edge of Nairobi, Kenya. Life there had its own rhythm. At the center stood a mosque, its dome and minarets watching over us like old guardians. Five times a day the Adhan—the call to prayer—rose into the air, and everything in the neighborhood seemed to pause and align with it. That rhythm, guided by the sun, became the pulse of our days.
Years later, when I began running, I realized I was chasing that same rhythm. That pulse inspires me in ways that reflect what running truly means to me now.
When I listen to the Adhan, I don’t just hear a call to prayer; I hear a call to pause, to reflect, to realign. Running, I’ve found, carries the same effect. The repetition of footsteps is its own melodic reminder—inviting me not only to move in the way I was created to move, but also to awaken something deeper. For me, running doesn’t just strengthen the body; it elevates the soul.
That’s the practice I want to share with you: treat running not as a test of performance or trend, but as a ritual of presence. Think of it as prayer in motion. Each run becomes less about conquering miles and more about entering a rhythm that carries you past your fears and into freedom.
If fear has kept you from starting, here’s the truth: you don’t need all the answers. You don’t need speed, distance, or the perfect plan. You only need to begin. Lace up. Step outside. Hit the trails. Let your body find its rhythm.
For me, running is more than movement—it’s a return. Just as the call to prayer once wove my Nairobi neighborhood into a shared rhythm, running now weaves me back into myself. Step by step. Breath by breath.
How to Start Your Own Running Practice:
Micro-Start: Begin with 5–10 minutes of light jogging or a run/walk combination. Even short bursts build confidence and rhythm.
Time Your Run: Pick a consistent time each day—morning, lunch, or evening—so it becomes a daily anchor like the call to prayer.
Warm-Up Movement: Try simple dynamic movements for 3–5 minutes before running:
Leg swings front to back (10 per leg)
Arm circles (10 forward, 10 backward)
Hip circles (5 each direction)
Focus on Breath and Step: Match your breathing to your strides. For example, inhale for 4 steps, exhale for 4 steps. Adjust as needed, but let it become your personal rhythm.
Use Landmarks as Checkpoints: Trees, streetlights, or benches can be mental milestones. Pause, notice your body, and reset if your mind wanders.
Mindful Observation: Take in your surroundings—sounds, smells, sunlight. Let your senses anchor you to the moment.
Post-Run Reflection: Spend 2–5 minutes stretching and noticing how your body feels. Write down any thoughts or feelings to track progress
And so, just as the call to prayer once stitched my neighborhood together, running now stitches me back to myself—step by step, breath by breath, in rhythm with something greater. This is the sacred monotony that transforms fear into flow, and repetition into liberation.
Running won’t always feel easy, but it will always feel honest. With every mile, you’ll discover not just where your feet can take you, but who you can become. My hope is that you start—no matter how small—and let the rhythm carry you. Because with each step forward, you may find yourself becoming who you were meant to be.
