What BPM is best for general running?

BEASTIE BOYS features an average 140 BPM, ideal for general running workouts.

BEASTIE BOYS - Running Music

The curator's description is brutally honest: "Running mixtape inspired by the Beastie Boys Book. It's got like two songs." They're underselling it—there are seventeen tracks here—but they're also telling the truth about something deeper. This playlist is what happens when you fall down the Beastie Boys rabbit hole and emerge with a running mix that makes perfect sense to exactly one person: the lunatic who built it. Lucky for us, that lunacy translates to forward motion.

I'm three tracks in when the genre-blending logic reveals itself. "Jimmy James" opens with that remastered funk-rock swagger, then "Stand Together" hits with old school hip hop energy, and suddenly my legs are caught in the crossfire between rap and rock, between Brooklyn attitude and punk velocity. The Beastie Boys spent their career refusing to pick a lane—rap rock, east coast hip hop, instrumental funk jams, whatever served the chaos—and that restlessness works pharmaceutical-grade magic for running. The genre never settles. My pace can't either. "The Skills To Pay The Bills" at track three is pure boom-bap percussion, and my stride locks into that snare like it's contractually obligated. The playlist isn't giving my brain time to negotiate with my hamstrings.

Mile four and "So What'Cha Want" detonates exactly when the lies start. You know the lies: "Maybe a slower pace would be smarter." "Is that knee thing happening again?" Ad-Rock's nasal bark and that bass line are management's response to my legs' resignation letter: denied, with prejudice. This is where the rap-rock blend becomes a survival tool. The hip hop tracks keep the rhythm mechanical and unarguable—your feet follow orders. Then the rock elements crash in with distortion and feedback, drowning out the part of your brain composing excuses. "Sabotage" at track ten is the platonic ideal of this strategy: punk aggression meets hip hop groove, and my cardiovascular system has no choice but to comply.

The playlist's inspired-by-the-book origins show in the sequencing. These aren't just hits—there are deep cuts like "Multilateral Nuclear Disarmament" and "Futterman's Rule" that only make sense if you've been reading about the band's history at 2 a.m. and thinking, "Yes, this instrumental track about geopolitical tension is exactly what Mile 6 needs." It's unhinged. It works. "An Open Letter To NYC" near the end is four minutes of nostalgic mellowness that shouldn't work for running but does because by mile eight, my legs are composing their own open letters, all profanity and formal complaints. The Beastie Boys knew something about endurance that translates across mediums: keep moving, keep changing, refuse to let the momentum die. That philosophy works for three decades of genre-hopping. Turns out it works for fifty-two minutes of voluntary suffering too.

BEASTIE BOYS

It's Got Like Two Songs (And Fifteen Other Reasons Your Legs Will File A Complaint)

Tracks

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