The feeling is best described as the feeling caused when I run the 4k.

That's
how I explain it. Shutting my eyes, I run fast, and the world zips by, a blur. I am the
one and only absolute object. I hear a faint sound of people yelling, clapping,
jumping, but I am deafened by the pulsing of my heart. My thoughts zip as fast as
the world, and there's nothing I restrict myself to ponder upon. That is how I explain
the rush of emotion that draws when the center of my forehead and the tip of my
nose touches the soft rug beneath me. My lashes drop and I hear nothing but the
sound of my voice in my head. Subhaana Rabbi Yal Alla. I say them twice, not
thoroughly comprehending the weight of the words, until the last recitation.
I say them again, the same words, slower. The words give a different aura.
Suddenly, my forehead is not the sole bearer of the rug. The blood that was once
running in my veins is now running in the fine thread of the rug. My soul, engraved
in the mesmerizing arabesque patterns. My eyes, shut, but, the tears refusing to
halt by the thin film of my palpebral. An aching pain comes over me, like what I
experienced in the winter of 10th grade during track and field when I had beaten
my time in the 4k. Suddenly my brain, like a disobedient child, travels to another
moment. I remember the sadness I had sensed when the bloody homeless patient
had arrived at WNY MEDICAL, a clinic I volunteered at during my high school career.
Next, I visualize Malala Yousafzai, she was, not only a Pakistani like I was, but a
human being who was shot in the head by the Taliban, for pursuing her education. I
cannot imagine her pain nor the patients, as incomparable to the greatest physical
pain I have faced.
This is me. Mishel Awan, daughter of a single mother and a father, who
although did not appeal to my emotional side, is very inspirational. A man who with
his bare hands has saved the lives of young children. A man who taught me, the
importance of knowledge, Who told me life is too amazing to waste your time on not
feeding your mind and soul. My mother however, inspired me in indescribable ways.
Before I know it, my mind takes me to a school function. I had received a couple of
awards. With no hesitation, I handed my awards to my mom, raising my lashes,
expecting to recognize a wave of pride on her face considering she would have new
awards to add to her collection of awards I had received since Pre-kindergarten.
However, she was dismal. To this day, I can never forget her throbbing face and the
source of her disappointment being the food I had thrown away. I was angry, I eyed
the other students with envy as they received hugs from their parents, on the
contrary, I was disappointing my mother. I didnt understand, I couldnt understand.
Years later, I totally comprehend her affectionate personality. She had witnessed
children die of hunger in her village in Pakistan. It made her into a humble human
being. She always repeated a phrase spoken by Prophet Muhammad (PBUH),
None of you have faith until you love for your neighbor what you love for
yourself. This is the phrase which she lived by and today these words have molded
me. My mind, however, is a shooting bullet and it leads me to the beaches of

Turkey, where 2- year old Aylan Kurdi was found washed ashore, and later identified
as a refugee from war-torn Syria.
A thought bullets through my mind. A thought so heavy that it would change
my life forever, change the way I look at people. Humans were suffering all over the
world, and there was nothing I could do. My morals required me to help those hurt
physically and emotionally in situations they had no control over. After working, at
WNY Medical PC, with numerous doctors always compassionate about their work, I
began researching the profession, by attending presentations, speaking to doctors
and not long after I see my destination clearly, not what I want to be, but who I want
to be. My determination and involvement for a greater cause will drive me. At this
moment, I am ready to face the world with compassion. I open my eyes, my
forehead attached to the freshly dampened rug; I lift my head, wipe my tears and
stand up.