running high

I've always had a complicated relationship with running. I know, on so many levels, that it's a good thing to do, it'll make me happy and it'll make me feel good. Yet almost every time I put my running shoes on, it's taken a lot more motivation to get to that point than what should be required for someone who likes running. 

Running high started as a little Steve Reich inspired experiment on a lazy afternoon at the beginning of 2023. I’d recently been running in the Tararua Ranges with my brother, Peter, and it ended up being the biggest run I’d ever done in distance, altitude, and time. So a few weeks later, both the thrill and exhaustion were certainly still very present in my mind and body. 

I had recently listened to a podcast where a musician was dissecting one of their songs. They too were inspired to write the piano track in a similar way to Steve Reich’s Six Pianos. Six Pianos is a very textural and rhythmic piece of music written for six pianists, creating a rich and expansive sound. Having heard Steve Reich speak about his music, and then hearing that someone else was inspired by it, I wanted to try something similar by looping an eight bar phrase on the piano, then looping three more parts on top of that. Once I had it on repeat, I sat back, listened, and let the mind wander.  As the different piano parts bounced off and around each other while the unrelenting repetition and momentum created a hypnotic-like trance, it made me think of the thoughts and feelings I experience when running. Straight away, I called it ‘the running song’. 

Over time I added bits to it and ended up with two very different sections, representing my love-hate relationship with running. The first section, before the Reich-esque part, is about the feeling and thought process of wanting to go out and do something adventurous; run, bike, or any kind of exercise, but struggling to find the emotional or mental energy to get myself up and out the door. As a result, a cycle of frustration and negative self-talk ensues, sad or annoyed that I couldn’t seem to find the energy to do the things that I know will make me feel good and happy. For the most part of this section, it alternates between two chords; a major chord and minor chord. The major chord is like, "Maybe I should go for a run", and then the minor chord replies, "Nah, that requires you to get up". As this mental tug-of-war continues, the blanket of background synth grows, becoming all encompassing like the feeling of lethargy and laziness, wondering why the couch feels so comfortable or why I can't stop scrolling, feeling like the very definition of procrastination. Towards the end of the first section, a change in harmony subtly foreshadows a hint of something else, maybe some hope, maybe some motivation, but don't get too excited just yet.

Suddenly, section two arrives with a glimmer of movement and excitement, something pulling me out of that lethargy. A sense of determination to hold on to this spark of motivation floods my mind and body as I rush around the house, getting ready for a run. As I step outside and the stacked pianos grow, the muscles in the body begin to work, complaining yet relieved to be used. Just like that, the tug-of-war is over, and the rhythm and focus of running sets in.

Running uphill in the Tararua Ranges is not running; it’s very much walking with the heart rate of running. As section two progresses, a beat emerges, emulating that of a heart beat that reverberates around your whole being while walk-running up a hill. As Peter and I walk-ran up towards Pukemoumou (Mt Hector), we were drawn to the infrequent sightings the Tops, the promised lands, the fruits of our walk-running labour. Every tramper and runner in the Tararua Ranges knows the sense of elation that awaits them on the high side of the bush line. No matter how tired or fed up you are, breaking through that thick, green wall provides an unexplainable boost in energy and mental fortitude. And thats why 'Tops' needs a capital T. 

As the expansive views and renewed sense of energy flowed through our veins, so too does the synth choir that wraps around the four pianos, still hammering away in the back ground. I wanted this section to convey the same sense of grandeur that fuelled us while on the Tops. The name ‘running high’ reflects how it felt to run in a place that makes you feel so small, yet so big at the same time, high up above everything else. You can see where you've been, you can see where you're going. 

The song reaches its climax as the bass synth stops pulsating and holds its note instead. At this moment in the song, all I can think of is reaching the top of Alpha and stopping to celebrate reaching another high point. The heart was still racing, the head still pounding, but gradually I began to register the outside world. The resounding silence pocked with birdsong, the rustle of tussock against my leg, a whisper of wind on my face. All the rhythm and textures merge and fade away, the piano becomes blurred in reverb and delay, and the synth choir dissipates, just like my reverberating heart rate and pulsating energy around my body faded away when we stopped to marvel at the beauty that surrounded us. All that's left is birdsong. Sometimes I wish I could just finish the run at the summit and let that feeling last forever. So that's where running high ends.