The first three tracks are all lies. Mo Lowda's fuzzy bassline on "Restive" promises your legs feel fine, BROS lays down a groove that suggests this will be easy, and Dylan Cartlidge brings nervous energy that feels like excitement instead of what it actually is: your body wondering what fresh hell you've signed it up for. The first mile always lies. It tells you you're an athlete, that you've got this, that those New Balance were worth the money. Don't believe it.
By "One More Thrill," KOLARS is asking the question your endorphins are too polite to answer, and Acid Dad's "Digger" drops into that downtuned Sabbath worship that makes you realize your hamstrings are opening negotiations. They're not threatening to strike yet, just letting you know they've retained legal counsel. This is when running stops being a Nike commercial and starts being a conversation with your own mortality.
Still Corners' "Heavy Days" arrives right when the reverb fog in your brain matches the reverb fog in the production. Caroline Rose's "Money" follows with sarcastic horns that understand what's happening here—you're paying for something with your body that you can't afford, and the interest rate is terrible. Mile four stops lying and starts telling the truth: you're not running toward anything, you're running from the person who thought this was a good idea forty minutes ago.
Then Britt Daniel shows up to ask "Do I Have to Talk You Into It" and the answer is yes, Britt, you absolutely do, because Carmanah's "Nightmare" is about to land right at the two-thirds mark when stopping sounds like the most rational decision you've ever considered. But that surf-rock darkness—all Dick Dale twang filtered through Pacific Northwest rain—does something sneaky. It makes forward motion feel inevitable instead of optional. The tempo locks into your cadence without asking permission, and suddenly you're not deciding to keep running, you're just still running.
"80's Men" and "Protect" are pure nostalgia cardio, the sound of chasing something that's getting further away the closer you get to it. You're not sure if it's your youth or the finish line or just the water fountain, but Bummers and Miina make it shimmer like it matters.
Mo Lowda earns the second slot with "Card Shark," Walking Who brings that Nuggets-compilation energy on "Little Lady," and Skye Wallace closes with "You Don't Still Have a Hold On Me," which is the necessary lie you tell yourself in the cooldown: that you won't do this again. You will. The playlist knows. You're already thinking about next week.
