Running Toward Clarity: My Relationship with Exercise
Running Toward Clarity: My Relationship with Exercise
For a long time, I never saw myself as a runner. It seemed like something other people did—athletes, morning warriors pounding the pavement before sunrise. But as with many things in life, the path toward running wasn’t about becoming someone else; it was about discovering another side of myself. Over time, running became more than exercise—it became a form of meditation, a way to clear my head, and, in many ways, a companion to my music.
Running as Meditation
I lace up my Nike running shoes and step outside, feeling the familiar comfort of well-worn gear. There's something about the ritual of putting on the same shoes, the same lightweight jacket, that signals to my mind: it’s time to move. The first time I truly connected with running was during a difficult period of my life. I had already been exploring meditation through music, using ambient textures and looping techniques to create space for reflection. But sitting still wasn’t always enough. My mind felt restless, and I needed movement.
When I started running, I realized it was another form of meditation—one that engaged my entire body. The rhythmic pattern of footsteps, the steady inhale and exhale, the feeling of air moving through my lungs—it all became a part of the process. Just like in music, repetition created a trance-like state, a place where thoughts could pass through without overwhelming me.
Soundtracking the Stride
Music plays a huge role in my running. Some people run to high-energy beats, but I’ve always gravitated toward ambient soundscapes and evolving textures. The slow-building nature of ambient music mirrors the gradual unfolding of a long run. It keeps me present, allowing me to focus on each step instead of the miles ahead.
I started curating my own playlists for running, often including some of my own compositions. The textures of vintage synths like the Moog Matriarch and Korg PS-3100 add depth to the experience, creating a sense of movement even when I’m standing still. The resonance of a long-decaying reverb or a gently pulsing delay feels like the perfect companion to an early morning run, when the world is quiet, and everything feels open.
The Discipline of Distance
Much like making music, running requires discipline. Whether it's committing to a long-distance run or breaking in a new pair of Nike running shoes, consistency matters more than perfection. You don’t always feel like doing it, but you show up anyway. Some days, the miles feel effortless; other days, every step is a battle. But consistency matters more than perfection. That’s something I’ve learned through years of composing, tweaking, layering sounds, and trusting that the process will lead somewhere meaningful.
The same goes for mental clarity. Some days, my mind is racing, tangled with thoughts I can’t quite sort out. But running—just like ambient music—has a way of untangling things. It’s not about pushing harder; it’s about surrendering to the process, allowing thoughts to rise and fall like waves, letting the motion itself become the therapy.
Movement & Music: A Lifelong Connection
In the same way that music became a tool for healing in my life, so did running. They are both acts of creation—one through sound, the other through movement. They require patience, presence, and an openness to the journey.
I never set out to be a runner, just like I never set out to create music that others would resonate with. But sometimes, the things we don’t plan become the things that shape us the most.
Until next time, Your fellow human just being.
Six Missing