THE HIGHWAY - Running music.

What came first, the motivation to run or the playlist that makes you believe you want to? I'm staring at "The Highway" and the description says three words: Get up. Go run. No story, no explanation, no hand-holding. It's not selling you anything. It just exists.

That's either genius or deeply passive-aggressive. I can't decide.

Here's what I know: The Highway opens with "Train" and closes with "Lonely Life," which is either accidental brilliance or someone who understands that playlists are just emotional timelines we pretend are about tempo. Fourteen tracks of trip hop, electroclash, art pop, alternative dance—genres that basically mean "I'm too cool to call this electronic music but that's what it is." Goldfrapp's in here. Coast Modern. Lewis Del Mar. Stuff that sounds like it's moving forward even when you're standing still.

I put it on for a Sunday morning run along the lake. The wind off the water is doing that thing where it reminds you that November is coming and you're not ready. Mile one, "Train" kicks in, and it's got this motorik pulse—not frantic, not chill, just relentless. It doesn't care if you're warmed up yet. It's already gone.

By mile two, I'm thinking about categories. Top 5 playlists that refuse to be what you expect: this is number three. It doesn't build to a climax. It doesn't ease you in. It just goes. "Hollow Life," "Painting (Masterpiece)"—these aren't hype tracks. They're too smart for that. They're the soundtrack to running away from something you can't name.

Here's where I get neurotic: Is this a good running playlist or just a good playlist I happen to be running to? Because the BPM is all over the place. "Caffeine" has this jittery energy, then "Myth Takes" slows it down, and by the time you hit "Bohemian Like You" at track ten, it's like someone pressed shuffle on their entire record collection and said, "Yeah, that'll work."

But here's the thing—it does work. Not because it's scientific. Not because someone mapped heart rate zones to tempos. It works because it feels like forward motion, even when the tempo drops. That's the trick with electronica and trip hop. The pulse is always there, even when the song gets quiet. It's like running on the highway at night—you're not thinking about your pace, you're just watching the lines disappear under your feet.

Mile four, "Tribulations (Edit)" comes on, and I'm remembering why I loved LCD Soundsystem before everyone else did. That track is all nerves and momentum, James Murphy's yelp cutting through like he's arguing with himself about whether any of this matters. It doesn't matter. You're still running.

By mile five, I'm at "The Way It Was" and I'm realizing this playlist isn't trying to make me faster or stronger. It's just trying to keep me moving. "&Run" at track thirteen—yeah, okay, on-the-nose title, but by that point I'm not analyzing anymore. I'm just going.

"Lonely Life" closes it out, and I'm walking it off, hands on my hips, breathing hard, thinking about how playlists are just mixtapes we pretend aren't emotional. "Get up. Go run." No explanation. No promise that it'll fix anything. Just movement.

I didn't make this playlist. I don't know who did. But I ran to it, and for forty-some minutes, I wasn't thinking about anything except the next track. That's all you can ask for.

Top 5 reasons this playlist works even though it shouldn't:

1. It refuses to hype you up—no EDM drops, no fake motivation, just steady forward motion that trusts you to keep up.

2. The genre mix (trip hop, electroclash, new rave) creates this weird lane where nothing feels out of place because nothing was supposed to fit in the first place.

3. "Bohemian Like You" at track ten is the only moment of levity, and it lands right when you'd normally hit a wall—coincidence or design? I'm overthinking it.

4. The title "The Highway" makes sense when you're running to it—no exits, no stops, just the hypnotic repetition of forward.

5. It ends on "Lonely Life" instead of some triumphant banger, which means the playlist knows what running actually is: just you and the road and whatever you're trying to outrun.

Is this playlist perfect? No. Is it trying to be? Also no. It's just there, waiting for you to get up and go run. Which is more honest than most playlists I've heard.

What came first—the highway or the need to get on it?

Rob Gordon (Weekend Warrior)