S “Anger is my anger, his love is my love, his blood is my blood,” Rosalía sings into my ear as I walk down Reuterstraße. Then comes Björk’s unmistakable voice—in the video about “Berghain,” she sings as a small bird.
As I reach Flughafenstraße with this dramatic piece of music, my friend E. warms up at the starting line of the Berlin Half Marathon. I know she is wearing the red thin jacket I gave her so she won’t freeze before the starting gun. In her voice message she sounds excited and happy. I feel happy for her too and remember how I stood there myself five years ago. Back then, it was she who, when we happened to meet while jogging, convinced me to sign up for the race. In those days I did many things for the first time in my life—and that was one of the loveliest moments.
This year, E. runs the 21 kilometers for the sixth time to raise funds for Sea-Watch. Every year she comes specially to Berlin for it, and for us, her friends, it’s always a highly anticipated highlight at the start of spring and the perfect opportunity to see each other again. In good weather we picnic on Tempelhofer Feld; in less favorable weather we sit at her home, in her kitchen, or on her small balcony with a view over Neukölln.
E. is tired, yet she seems to have energy for another run at the same time. We cook for her, massage her legs, love listening to her marathon anecdotes — she is our heroine and the absolute protagonist of this day. Rosalía’s song ends, I keep thinking of E., and in my head I run with her.
