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Run the Song: Writing About Running About Listening
A revelatory exploration of the relationship between music and running by one of our foremost music writers
Out the front door, across the street, down the hill, and into Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx. This is how Ben Ratliff’s runs started most days of the week for about a decade. Sometimes listening to music, not always. Then, at the beginning of the pandemic, he began taking notes about what he listened to. He wondered if a body in motion, his body, was helping him to listen better to the motion in music.
He runs through the woods, along the Hudson River, and into the lowlands of the Bronx. He encounters newly erected fences for an intended FEMA field hospital, and demonstrations against racial violence. His runs, and the notes that result from them, vary in length just as the songs he listens to seventies soul, jazz, hardcore punk, string quartets, Eliane Radigue’s slow-change electronics, Carnatic singing, DJ sets, piano music of all kinds, Sade, Fred Astaire, and Ice Spice.
Run the Song is also the story of how a professional critic, frustrated with conventional modes of criticism, finds his way back to a deeper relationship with music. When stumped or preoccupied by a piece of music, Ratliff starts to think that perhaps running can tell him more about what he’s listening to—let’s run it, he’ll say. And with that, the reader in turn is invited to listen alongside one of the great listeners of our day in this wildly inventive and consistently thought-provoking chronicle of a profoundly unsettling time.
Out the front door, across the street, down the hill, and into Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx. This is how Ben Ratliff’s runs started most days of the week for about a decade. Sometimes listening to music, not always. Then, at the beginning of the pandemic, he began taking notes about what he listened to. He wondered if a body in motion, his body, was helping him to listen better to the motion in music.
He runs through the woods, along the Hudson River, and into the lowlands of the Bronx. He encounters newly erected fences for an intended FEMA field hospital, and demonstrations against racial violence. His runs, and the notes that result from them, vary in length just as the songs he listens to seventies soul, jazz, hardcore punk, string quartets, Eliane Radigue’s slow-change electronics, Carnatic singing, DJ sets, piano music of all kinds, Sade, Fred Astaire, and Ice Spice.
Run the Song is also the story of how a professional critic, frustrated with conventional modes of criticism, finds his way back to a deeper relationship with music. When stumped or preoccupied by a piece of music, Ratliff starts to think that perhaps running can tell him more about what he’s listening to—let’s run it, he’ll say. And with that, the reader in turn is invited to listen alongside one of the great listeners of our day in this wildly inventive and consistently thought-provoking chronicle of a profoundly unsettling time.
272 pages, Paperback
Published March 18, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 40 reviews
May 7, 2025
i was rlly excited about the idea of this book but i felt confused at where the author took it. i felt like i was missing something the whole time i was reading. interestingly he also mentioned murakami’s what i talk about when i talk about running which i didn’t love either so maybe i just need to quit the self reflective running books
May 9, 2025
Closest comps are They Can’t Kill Us til They Kill Us & (admitted in the text) What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, but I would read either of those before this. I think where they are focused and have a very interesting perspective, this felt like just a collection of thoughts, some very interesting and most not as much. Idk, maybe it’s just that we think about running differently, or that I don’t have a connection with the author so have less motivation to engage with his opinions, but didn’t do it for me. Gave it a third star bc the review felt too mean to also give it 2 stars
September 27, 2025
This so meta: I'm writing a review of a book by a former music critic on running while listening to music, the audiobook version of which he narrated himself and which I listened to while running. The experience was like a long piece of music with many parts. Not a conventional symphony, but more like an album with a theme, with lots — and lots and lots — of connected but very different songs. The opening tracks got me excited, then I grew increasingly irritated even though there were interesting and wonderful bits, and when I finished, I thought it worked well overall but wasn't going to be my genre.
The experience reminded me of how a friend used to take me to jazz concerts, trying to get me to love contemporary jazz like he does, but I remained hopelessly too middlebrow.
There was much I really liked. Ratliff made me want to read John Berger again. (It's been forty years!) He introduced much music that I am eager to try (and much I know I'll be that hopelessly middlebrow loser not to want to try.) He made me want to get my shakuhachi albums into regular rotation again.
Even more, Ratliff offered a newish approach to running for me. Unlike him — more on that later — I love running partly because there are so many ways you can do it, and his approach of hyper-intentional but not purposeful listening while running sounds super cool. (If that also sounds paradoxical, you'll need to dust your Husserl and reread how you can attend intensely without having a goal for the attention.)
And still even more, I appreciated the overall challenge Ratliff had set himself and was constantly aware of: how to write about an experience that is not textual, but phenomenological. Here, it is both about running and listening to music. I've often thought about this in the context of running and other physical activities and experiences. (I've encountered this in mountaineering literature and have thought about it a lot about my own scuba diving.) The challenge is less a question of translation than interpretation, although of course translation is almost always an interpretation. For my money, I quite liked what he does in this book, particularly about describing running, which I know much more about than music. I was a bit puzzled that he doesn't write about Mihali Csikszentmihalyi's concept of "flow," which is maybe pretty common now in discussions of sports and art both, but you can't ask him to do everything.
What really bothered me, though, was the dogmatic attitude Ratliff has about his running. His approach of "just running" — always solitary, no training, no logging, no races, random often undetermined non-plans that take him anywhere between four and twelve miles — reminds me of what a friend called his "Zen runs." I do those occasionally, too, and they can be wonderful. But although Ratliff claims pluralism about approaches — he does his thing, others can do theirs — there is a kind of implicit contempt for others. Call it dogmatic Zen.
For example, he is disappointed in Harumi Murakami's approach to running in What I Talk About When I Talk About Running because Murakami "trains" and cares about mileage and runs ultras. And although Ratliff is very precise about language, his use of "marathon" for anything long, as opposed to a specific distance of 26.2 miles, seems almost deliberately contemptuous in its imprecision.
For me, running can be and has been: meditative solitude in wilderness; gut-busting track workouts; exploring the waking summer Paris at 6 a.m.; races from 400 meters to 50K, sometimes with puking and elation at the end and sometimes frustration; pacing friends on their first marathons; those Zen runs I talked about; group runs with friends or colleagues; audiobooks or music or class planning with only natural sounds. Why have just one approach?
Ratliff is admirably — amazingly — omnivorous about music; why not about running? I'm not saying people should explore every possible thing and every possible modality of an activity. I've never tried drugs, and I'm not interested. I have no interest in a Caribbean cruise. But I'm not contemptuous of either of those things. The world of fitness is full of dogmas — "intervals are the only way to get faster," "CrossFit is the only functional fitness approach that works," "if you tie your safety knot in your harness that way you will die" — and it's that unhelpful dogmatism Ratliff reminds me of in his celebration of his approach to running.
One last critical bit: one of Ratliff's curiously bold ipse dixits is "there are no aural landmarks." It's one of his reflections on the way how often our metaphors are visual, which is true. But this particular pronouncement is patently, literally untrue. Maybe Ratliff just hasn't ever heard, or heard of a foghorn? Here's a more personal example. Some years ago, I did a 28-hour adventure race. One section involved land navigation in the middle of the night. I had a map, and a headlamp, but that didn't do much in Michigan's undulating and dense terrain. But there were bullfrogs! And their own foghorn-like sounds helped me identify the bogs and ponds I saw on my map but couldn't see. I guess Ratliff has never orienteered at night. Another lost experience for him.
The experience reminded me of how a friend used to take me to jazz concerts, trying to get me to love contemporary jazz like he does, but I remained hopelessly too middlebrow.
There was much I really liked. Ratliff made me want to read John Berger again. (It's been forty years!) He introduced much music that I am eager to try (and much I know I'll be that hopelessly middlebrow loser not to want to try.) He made me want to get my shakuhachi albums into regular rotation again.
Even more, Ratliff offered a newish approach to running for me. Unlike him — more on that later — I love running partly because there are so many ways you can do it, and his approach of hyper-intentional but not purposeful listening while running sounds super cool. (If that also sounds paradoxical, you'll need to dust your Husserl and reread how you can attend intensely without having a goal for the attention.)
And still even more, I appreciated the overall challenge Ratliff had set himself and was constantly aware of: how to write about an experience that is not textual, but phenomenological. Here, it is both about running and listening to music. I've often thought about this in the context of running and other physical activities and experiences. (I've encountered this in mountaineering literature and have thought about it a lot about my own scuba diving.) The challenge is less a question of translation than interpretation, although of course translation is almost always an interpretation. For my money, I quite liked what he does in this book, particularly about describing running, which I know much more about than music. I was a bit puzzled that he doesn't write about Mihali Csikszentmihalyi's concept of "flow," which is maybe pretty common now in discussions of sports and art both, but you can't ask him to do everything.
What really bothered me, though, was the dogmatic attitude Ratliff has about his running. His approach of "just running" — always solitary, no training, no logging, no races, random often undetermined non-plans that take him anywhere between four and twelve miles — reminds me of what a friend called his "Zen runs." I do those occasionally, too, and they can be wonderful. But although Ratliff claims pluralism about approaches — he does his thing, others can do theirs — there is a kind of implicit contempt for others. Call it dogmatic Zen.
For example, he is disappointed in Harumi Murakami's approach to running in What I Talk About When I Talk About Running because Murakami "trains" and cares about mileage and runs ultras. And although Ratliff is very precise about language, his use of "marathon" for anything long, as opposed to a specific distance of 26.2 miles, seems almost deliberately contemptuous in its imprecision.
For me, running can be and has been: meditative solitude in wilderness; gut-busting track workouts; exploring the waking summer Paris at 6 a.m.; races from 400 meters to 50K, sometimes with puking and elation at the end and sometimes frustration; pacing friends on their first marathons; those Zen runs I talked about; group runs with friends or colleagues; audiobooks or music or class planning with only natural sounds. Why have just one approach?
Ratliff is admirably — amazingly — omnivorous about music; why not about running? I'm not saying people should explore every possible thing and every possible modality of an activity. I've never tried drugs, and I'm not interested. I have no interest in a Caribbean cruise. But I'm not contemptuous of either of those things. The world of fitness is full of dogmas — "intervals are the only way to get faster," "CrossFit is the only functional fitness approach that works," "if you tie your safety knot in your harness that way you will die" — and it's that unhelpful dogmatism Ratliff reminds me of in his celebration of his approach to running.
One last critical bit: one of Ratliff's curiously bold ipse dixits is "there are no aural landmarks." It's one of his reflections on the way how often our metaphors are visual, which is true. But this particular pronouncement is patently, literally untrue. Maybe Ratliff just hasn't ever heard, or heard of a foghorn? Here's a more personal example. Some years ago, I did a 28-hour adventure race. One section involved land navigation in the middle of the night. I had a map, and a headlamp, but that didn't do much in Michigan's undulating and dense terrain. But there were bullfrogs! And their own foghorn-like sounds helped me identify the bogs and ponds I saw on my map but couldn't see. I guess Ratliff has never orienteered at night. Another lost experience for him.
March 16, 2025
Big thanks to Graywolf Press and NetGalley for allowing me to read an advanced copy of Ben Ratliff’s great new book Run the Song: Writing About Running About Listening. Also, I have to give big props to Ben Ratliff as well for providing a playlist of sorts of all the songs/albums that are referenced in this book. As I was reading, I was highlighting all the music I wasn’t familiar with because it sounded like some amazing sounds to check out. I have Ratliff’s Coltrane: The Story of a Sound on my to read list, and after reading this book, I’m hoping to get to it sooner. Ratliff’s book combines several of my own personal passions: reading, writing, and running, and since he is coming from a music journalist background, it was cool to read about his perspectives about running. When I read “running” books written by coaches or athletes, they are usually focused on strategies, methods, and training guidelines. I was wondering whether Ratliff’s book might be like Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, probably my favorite book about running since it is more meditative and reflective. Ratliff actually devotes about 2 chapters to writing about Murakami’s writing and running, and also wondering why Murakami, another writer who writes extensively about music, didn’t talk too much about running and music. For both writers, it seems like running is a time to enter a void like state, something Ratliff refers to from Murakami’s book. I’ve often felt the same way. I’ve found running as a way to put on headphones and think about events and incidents in my life, to work out ideas and problems, and to just enjoy being outside and moving. I haven’t read Murakami’s book for a while, but it was interesting to read Ratliff’s reaction.
Ratliff’s own running around the Bronx and Yonkers also resonated with my own running experience. I started running when I lived in Philadelphia, and I really enjoyed exploring the city’s different neighborhoods, parks, and trails in my runs. While I tended to follow similar routes, I also loved exploring new areas, pushing myself further, and seeing how far I could go. I was amazed to learn about all of the different types of music that Ratliff listens to while running, and especially to learn about running to John and Alice Coltrane’s music. In his sections discussing both Coltranes’ different albums, Ratliff explains how Coltrane’s later work was about pushing boundaries of songs—exploring and expanding, and Ratliff sometimes sees his running in this way. I love the music of both Alice and John Coltrane, but I typically don’t run to Jazz music. I usually reserve free Jazz for other activities, especially those involving reading. However, it was cool to see how Ratliff uses this music as a way to further his running and I think it speaks to the more introspective and observational aspects of his running, how running and listening to music allows him to possibly experience and kind of synesthesia, where he can combine his senses. He doesn’t directly say that, and this is just more my own speculation, but it is a really cool way of thinking about this kind of synthesis of perceptive inputs. However, it was interesting to think about running in new places. This is something I like to do when I travel—to scout out a new location to run and just see the city that way. I tried it on a trip to Chicago, and it was really cool to run along Lake Michigan and see a little of the different sights around the city. I’ve run several races in NY and had some opportunities to run around parts of Manhattan, and that is also a really cool experience. Again, it is a way to learn more about the place and kind of do a deep dive, but with a soundtrack. What’s interesting about Ratliff’s running is how he enjoys exploring the same area but always looking for something new. This is something that also resonated with me. There’s some canal trails not too far from me where I like to run in the spring and summer, and it is always cool to find new animals, plants, and just general scenery when I run. I particularly like when it’s early morning and the fog is slowly separating from the lake, gradually rising to the clouds. I’ll have to remember to take some other paths or work my way over onto other roads and possibly find some Coltrane or Eric Dolphy to guide me on the path of getting lost.
I also really enjoyed Ratliff’s focus on movement for both music and running and connecting dance and physical movement to music with running. This was something I hadn’t really considered before. I have incorporated more dance-type electronic music into my running more recently, and I feel like this kind of music does have a repetitive, propulsive beat that keeps me moving. When I first started running, all I would listen to was metal (death, grindcore, thrash, NWOBM, etc), punk, and hip-hop. I’ve gradually expanded my listening, and have incorporated more, but I loved reading about how Ratliff explores different types of music and their related movements to running. Again, this was different from typical running books that can focus on foot strike and gait, where Ratliff is more interested in the movement of expression as opposed to the efficiency of movement. It again shows how running can be a kind of emotional outlet or a kind of expression of gratitude for the ability to still move. It’s something that I need to remind myself about with running.
People run and write for different reasons. While there are running books and articles that tend to focus on mechanics and techniques of running, Ratliff’s book is unique in that it is more contemplative and meditative. It’s not quite a journal, but it is a highly personal look inside Ratliff’s own running practice, learning about how running has helped him listen, which has further fueled his writing process. Although he may not realize it, Ratliff’s book has helped me consider some new techniques for running and especially for listening. While some runners I know have argued against listening to music while they run, I cannot imagine running without headphones or a soundtrack. Ratliff has given me some new ideas and music to consider as a running soundtrack. Furthermore, he has provided some insights into how running can enhance listening and thought. This was such a great book, and I loved the short chapters that tended to focus on artists, music, and places to run. In particular, I’m grateful to Ratliff for introducing some awesome new music to me. I always appreciate these books about music that send me in new directions. I am really excited to get some Arsenio Rodriguez records and learn more about tres musicians. I checked out some of his music online, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t heard of him. That chapter that linked Rodriguez, Thelonius Monk, and Elmo Hope, who I think had some connection with Coltrane, was one of my favorite chapters. I feel like there was some documentary that talked a lot about Elmo Hope. I can’t remember the connection, but reading Ratliff’s book made me want to check out Elmo Hope’s music, even if his recordings are limited. It was so cool the way he linked the neighborhood that connected them to his running exploration, and found a way to weave together their music as well. Ratliff does this with some other artists, musical styles, and places as well, and this kind of interweaving and connection was fascinating and interesting to read. A highly recommended book.
Ratliff’s own running around the Bronx and Yonkers also resonated with my own running experience. I started running when I lived in Philadelphia, and I really enjoyed exploring the city’s different neighborhoods, parks, and trails in my runs. While I tended to follow similar routes, I also loved exploring new areas, pushing myself further, and seeing how far I could go. I was amazed to learn about all of the different types of music that Ratliff listens to while running, and especially to learn about running to John and Alice Coltrane’s music. In his sections discussing both Coltranes’ different albums, Ratliff explains how Coltrane’s later work was about pushing boundaries of songs—exploring and expanding, and Ratliff sometimes sees his running in this way. I love the music of both Alice and John Coltrane, but I typically don’t run to Jazz music. I usually reserve free Jazz for other activities, especially those involving reading. However, it was cool to see how Ratliff uses this music as a way to further his running and I think it speaks to the more introspective and observational aspects of his running, how running and listening to music allows him to possibly experience and kind of synesthesia, where he can combine his senses. He doesn’t directly say that, and this is just more my own speculation, but it is a really cool way of thinking about this kind of synthesis of perceptive inputs. However, it was interesting to think about running in new places. This is something I like to do when I travel—to scout out a new location to run and just see the city that way. I tried it on a trip to Chicago, and it was really cool to run along Lake Michigan and see a little of the different sights around the city. I’ve run several races in NY and had some opportunities to run around parts of Manhattan, and that is also a really cool experience. Again, it is a way to learn more about the place and kind of do a deep dive, but with a soundtrack. What’s interesting about Ratliff’s running is how he enjoys exploring the same area but always looking for something new. This is something that also resonated with me. There’s some canal trails not too far from me where I like to run in the spring and summer, and it is always cool to find new animals, plants, and just general scenery when I run. I particularly like when it’s early morning and the fog is slowly separating from the lake, gradually rising to the clouds. I’ll have to remember to take some other paths or work my way over onto other roads and possibly find some Coltrane or Eric Dolphy to guide me on the path of getting lost.
I also really enjoyed Ratliff’s focus on movement for both music and running and connecting dance and physical movement to music with running. This was something I hadn’t really considered before. I have incorporated more dance-type electronic music into my running more recently, and I feel like this kind of music does have a repetitive, propulsive beat that keeps me moving. When I first started running, all I would listen to was metal (death, grindcore, thrash, NWOBM, etc), punk, and hip-hop. I’ve gradually expanded my listening, and have incorporated more, but I loved reading about how Ratliff explores different types of music and their related movements to running. Again, this was different from typical running books that can focus on foot strike and gait, where Ratliff is more interested in the movement of expression as opposed to the efficiency of movement. It again shows how running can be a kind of emotional outlet or a kind of expression of gratitude for the ability to still move. It’s something that I need to remind myself about with running.
People run and write for different reasons. While there are running books and articles that tend to focus on mechanics and techniques of running, Ratliff’s book is unique in that it is more contemplative and meditative. It’s not quite a journal, but it is a highly personal look inside Ratliff’s own running practice, learning about how running has helped him listen, which has further fueled his writing process. Although he may not realize it, Ratliff’s book has helped me consider some new techniques for running and especially for listening. While some runners I know have argued against listening to music while they run, I cannot imagine running without headphones or a soundtrack. Ratliff has given me some new ideas and music to consider as a running soundtrack. Furthermore, he has provided some insights into how running can enhance listening and thought. This was such a great book, and I loved the short chapters that tended to focus on artists, music, and places to run. In particular, I’m grateful to Ratliff for introducing some awesome new music to me. I always appreciate these books about music that send me in new directions. I am really excited to get some Arsenio Rodriguez records and learn more about tres musicians. I checked out some of his music online, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t heard of him. That chapter that linked Rodriguez, Thelonius Monk, and Elmo Hope, who I think had some connection with Coltrane, was one of my favorite chapters. I feel like there was some documentary that talked a lot about Elmo Hope. I can’t remember the connection, but reading Ratliff’s book made me want to check out Elmo Hope’s music, even if his recordings are limited. It was so cool the way he linked the neighborhood that connected them to his running exploration, and found a way to weave together their music as well. Ratliff does this with some other artists, musical styles, and places as well, and this kind of interweaving and connection was fascinating and interesting to read. A highly recommended book.
May 1, 2025
Run the Song by Ben Ratliff
Audio Version
Overall Grade: B
Information: B-
Writing/Organization: B-
Narration: B
Best Aspect: Interesting story concept and a feeling of the ease of life during 2020 with so much free time.
Worst Aspect: Just not that engaging, I enjoyed it but didn’t love it.
Recommend: Yes.
Available now, thanks NetGalley
Audio Version
Overall Grade: B
Information: B-
Writing/Organization: B-
Narration: B
Best Aspect: Interesting story concept and a feeling of the ease of life during 2020 with so much free time.
Worst Aspect: Just not that engaging, I enjoyed it but didn’t love it.
Recommend: Yes.
Available now, thanks NetGalley
July 18, 2025
If you like running, or jazz, or high-level music criticism, this is a book for you.
January 20, 2026
2.75- I wish this was written by Hanif Abdurriqib. The big idea of this book is cool, but the actual music and running writing was mediocre. I finished it, but I already don't remember much of it.
May 4, 2025
I learned about this book's existence from the Washington Post and, being a (no longer competitive) runner who listens to music, I was immediately drawn to it. I thoroughly enjoyed following the author's meanderings in both his running routes, mostly in the Bronx area, and his musical choices. I have quite recently discovered that the music that accompanies my runs does not have to be a set bpm or “upbeat” type but, instead, running is an opportunity to explore all kinds of artists, genres and musical pieces, and to see where the mood and movement of the music take you. Mr Ratliff's book is a celebration of that opportunity alongside the freedom found in recognizing the “ongoingness” of running, music and life. A wonderful philosophical contemplation and appreciation - I could have read many more chapters.
January 11, 2026
What happens when music meets motion
At dinner one night, a friend took a sip of a cocktail and said they wished they were a wine connoisseur. Someone who could describe taste so well that the words themselves became part of the experience.
That’s how I feel about music. I know what I like. I feel what it elicits in me. I just don’t always have the language for it.
“Run the Song” by Ben Ratliff, does.
Ratliff is a jazz critic, and you feel that right away. He listens closely and he can put into words what most of us just feel. You don’t need to know the songs he’s writing about. Sometimes it’s better if you don’t. You’re just following how he listens and how he thinks.
The big idea of the book is pretty straightforward: music moves you. Running moves you. Put them together and you notice things you might miss otherwise. Not words, not melody, but sensation. It took a while for that to settle for me.
Early on, I felt what I experienced reading “Crying in H Mart.” I loved the book, but the recipes sometimes felt tacked on. I wondered if the running here was doing the same thing.
Then there’s a moment with a Haydn string quartet where it clicks.
Ratliff is out running while listening when a Metro-North train suddenly roars past him. He writes:
“The first minute in the first movement of the quartet in D major, with its anchoring chords of low notes, repeated four times, creates a restful starting place, and it’s maybe even ‘simple,’ but also secretly intense: the exhilarating mundane, to be quickly counterbalanced by shooting violin arpeggios. Just at this arrival of contrasts, the northbound Metro-North Hudson Line—close to where I am running—sidles up and then storms by for twenty seconds. I hadn’t heard it coming. Elegant and brutal. Very simple. My running has connected Haydn to a train.”
And suddenly the music, the run and the world around him are all part of the same moment. That’s when you understand what he’s doing.
From there, the book keeps opening up. Chapter 33 on Ice Spice’s “Munch” is a love letter to Fordham and a short journey through language, especially the phrase “admit of.” It’s where Ratliff ties music, running and attention together most clearly. If I were trying to convince someone to read this book, that’s where I’d start.
Ratliff writes:
“The entire sounded being of Ice Spice does not admit of bullshit… She will be with us for only two minutes. Her songs are so short—like breaths. A person running, similarly, can’t and needn’t keep stopping to consider the details.”
The chapter on the band Dry Cleaning goes in a different direction. It’s about how music can hold what’s happening around you and what’s happening inside you at the same time. Which is also what running feels like. Your body is doing one thing. Your mind is doing another. Sometimes they line up. Sometimes they don’t.
By the end, it’s clear the book isn’t really about running. And it’s not a collection of reviews either. It’s a rumination. One song leads to a thought, which leads to language, memory, place and attention. You’re not being guided so much as invited to run along with the thinking.
“Run the Song” is the kind of book I didn’t want to end. But even when it does, it stays with you.
Not just because of lines that led to days of conversation with friends. Lines like, “I now know that if you find something boring, it says more about you than about the thing.” Or the time we kept circling what violist Kim Kashkashian meant when she said her best playing involves intention and not desire. What’s the difference between the two. How does that apply beyond music.
And not because it sent me into music that isn’t part of my usual rotation. Eddie Kendricks. Ohio Players. Fred Astaire. Thelonious Monk.
Finally, let’s address the most obvious comparison. Almost everyone I’ve recommended this book to mentions “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running?
In that book, Haruki Murakami runs to reach a void.
At first, “Run the Song” seems to argue the opposite. That running fills the space, that music, memory and language rush in.
But I don’t think they’re actually at odds.
Murakami runs to clear space. Ratliff runs to notice what shows up inside when you do.
At dinner one night, a friend took a sip of a cocktail and said they wished they were a wine connoisseur. Someone who could describe taste so well that the words themselves became part of the experience.
That’s how I feel about music. I know what I like. I feel what it elicits in me. I just don’t always have the language for it.
“Run the Song” by Ben Ratliff, does.
Ratliff is a jazz critic, and you feel that right away. He listens closely and he can put into words what most of us just feel. You don’t need to know the songs he’s writing about. Sometimes it’s better if you don’t. You’re just following how he listens and how he thinks.
The big idea of the book is pretty straightforward: music moves you. Running moves you. Put them together and you notice things you might miss otherwise. Not words, not melody, but sensation. It took a while for that to settle for me.
Early on, I felt what I experienced reading “Crying in H Mart.” I loved the book, but the recipes sometimes felt tacked on. I wondered if the running here was doing the same thing.
Then there’s a moment with a Haydn string quartet where it clicks.
Ratliff is out running while listening when a Metro-North train suddenly roars past him. He writes:
“The first minute in the first movement of the quartet in D major, with its anchoring chords of low notes, repeated four times, creates a restful starting place, and it’s maybe even ‘simple,’ but also secretly intense: the exhilarating mundane, to be quickly counterbalanced by shooting violin arpeggios. Just at this arrival of contrasts, the northbound Metro-North Hudson Line—close to where I am running—sidles up and then storms by for twenty seconds. I hadn’t heard it coming. Elegant and brutal. Very simple. My running has connected Haydn to a train.”
And suddenly the music, the run and the world around him are all part of the same moment. That’s when you understand what he’s doing.
From there, the book keeps opening up. Chapter 33 on Ice Spice’s “Munch” is a love letter to Fordham and a short journey through language, especially the phrase “admit of.” It’s where Ratliff ties music, running and attention together most clearly. If I were trying to convince someone to read this book, that’s where I’d start.
Ratliff writes:
“The entire sounded being of Ice Spice does not admit of bullshit… She will be with us for only two minutes. Her songs are so short—like breaths. A person running, similarly, can’t and needn’t keep stopping to consider the details.”
The chapter on the band Dry Cleaning goes in a different direction. It’s about how music can hold what’s happening around you and what’s happening inside you at the same time. Which is also what running feels like. Your body is doing one thing. Your mind is doing another. Sometimes they line up. Sometimes they don’t.
By the end, it’s clear the book isn’t really about running. And it’s not a collection of reviews either. It’s a rumination. One song leads to a thought, which leads to language, memory, place and attention. You’re not being guided so much as invited to run along with the thinking.
“Run the Song” is the kind of book I didn’t want to end. But even when it does, it stays with you.
Not just because of lines that led to days of conversation with friends. Lines like, “I now know that if you find something boring, it says more about you than about the thing.” Or the time we kept circling what violist Kim Kashkashian meant when she said her best playing involves intention and not desire. What’s the difference between the two. How does that apply beyond music.
And not because it sent me into music that isn’t part of my usual rotation. Eddie Kendricks. Ohio Players. Fred Astaire. Thelonious Monk.
Finally, let’s address the most obvious comparison. Almost everyone I’ve recommended this book to mentions “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running?
In that book, Haruki Murakami runs to reach a void.
At first, “Run the Song” seems to argue the opposite. That running fills the space, that music, memory and language rush in.
But I don’t think they’re actually at odds.
Murakami runs to clear space. Ratliff runs to notice what shows up inside when you do.
January 26, 2025
My thanks to NetGalley and Graywolf Press for an advance copy of this book on music, mindfulness, and running, and how one person was able to find a balance in these three, making him feel better, making him deal with the world better, and returning to him something he thought lost, his love of songs.
To quote The Kinks " I am not the world's most physical guy." I played little league for one year, that was enough. Gym in school when I had to and that was enough. A few years before the pandemic I found myself with a bunch of work mates going to an indoor adventure ropes course, with ziplines. And I loved it. So much so I didn't want to leave, and began making the trip myself just to run around, climb things, and zipline. I found this cleared my head alot, I felt that everything seemed crisper, sharper, food better, books more interesting, and music more important. This like many things in life has fallen away. In fact I have not thought of this at all in a few years, but it came back to me while reading this book, something I did not expect. And something I am trying to figure how to do again. Run the Song: Writing About Running About Listening by music critic and historian Ben Ratliff is a portrait of a man at a loss finding new meaning in his life, his love of music, and in his city, all while running not from something but to something much better.
The book begins with a city of ruin, a pandemic with FEMA building fences, masks being worn, and a lot of free time that has to be filled by running. Ratliff was at a time in his life where music wasn't that important to him, which as a professional music critic, could be a problem. Running was something he was enjoying something he could do by himself, and something that allowed him to focus on things, like music, and like Madonna, found that he was touched by the music almost for the very first time. The pounding of feet, the physical motion made music suddenly important. To focus on, and to hear things that were always there but had been ignored. Beats. Meaning. Anger. Tunes that suddenly made sense, or not. In a time where everything is product and everything, including criticisms can be monetized, Ratliff began to remember why he loved music. From discovering Alice Coltrane, investigating different cultures music. Punk music. All directed into the ears, over the slap of feet on sidewalk, breathing heavy, but discovering an ability to heed what he was hearing.
This is the second book I have read about running and and the arts, something that should not go together so well, but does. As with the Haruki Murakami book on training for marathons, the writing is quite good, and makes running seem not just healthy but vital to both men. Ratliff sets the scene carefully, never coming out about when this book was started, but the signs are all clear. One can sense the ennui, the way does anything matter anymore, one that has returned to us in January once again. I have read a few books by Ratliff on jazz, but this was a book that was much bigger and broader. This is about the hearing music, and by hearing music, maybe a familiar song, but really giving it one's attention, how life changing, maybe life affirming this can be. Ratliff writes very well, making every song sound interesting, and vital. One will be writing down artists and titles constantly, or trying to track them on Spotify. Though I am sure Ratliff would say, find your own music, find what helps and maybe even heals you. One person's noise, is another person's anthem, find your anthem.
I really enjoyed this book. As I wrote this reminded me of good times, that maybe I can never go back to. However if nothing else I have a lot of new songs to listen to, and something to help with these days coming. Maybe not running, but something new. To add a skip to the step, and song to the heart.
To quote The Kinks " I am not the world's most physical guy." I played little league for one year, that was enough. Gym in school when I had to and that was enough. A few years before the pandemic I found myself with a bunch of work mates going to an indoor adventure ropes course, with ziplines. And I loved it. So much so I didn't want to leave, and began making the trip myself just to run around, climb things, and zipline. I found this cleared my head alot, I felt that everything seemed crisper, sharper, food better, books more interesting, and music more important. This like many things in life has fallen away. In fact I have not thought of this at all in a few years, but it came back to me while reading this book, something I did not expect. And something I am trying to figure how to do again. Run the Song: Writing About Running About Listening by music critic and historian Ben Ratliff is a portrait of a man at a loss finding new meaning in his life, his love of music, and in his city, all while running not from something but to something much better.
The book begins with a city of ruin, a pandemic with FEMA building fences, masks being worn, and a lot of free time that has to be filled by running. Ratliff was at a time in his life where music wasn't that important to him, which as a professional music critic, could be a problem. Running was something he was enjoying something he could do by himself, and something that allowed him to focus on things, like music, and like Madonna, found that he was touched by the music almost for the very first time. The pounding of feet, the physical motion made music suddenly important. To focus on, and to hear things that were always there but had been ignored. Beats. Meaning. Anger. Tunes that suddenly made sense, or not. In a time where everything is product and everything, including criticisms can be monetized, Ratliff began to remember why he loved music. From discovering Alice Coltrane, investigating different cultures music. Punk music. All directed into the ears, over the slap of feet on sidewalk, breathing heavy, but discovering an ability to heed what he was hearing.
This is the second book I have read about running and and the arts, something that should not go together so well, but does. As with the Haruki Murakami book on training for marathons, the writing is quite good, and makes running seem not just healthy but vital to both men. Ratliff sets the scene carefully, never coming out about when this book was started, but the signs are all clear. One can sense the ennui, the way does anything matter anymore, one that has returned to us in January once again. I have read a few books by Ratliff on jazz, but this was a book that was much bigger and broader. This is about the hearing music, and by hearing music, maybe a familiar song, but really giving it one's attention, how life changing, maybe life affirming this can be. Ratliff writes very well, making every song sound interesting, and vital. One will be writing down artists and titles constantly, or trying to track them on Spotify. Though I am sure Ratliff would say, find your own music, find what helps and maybe even heals you. One person's noise, is another person's anthem, find your anthem.
I really enjoyed this book. As I wrote this reminded me of good times, that maybe I can never go back to. However if nothing else I have a lot of new songs to listen to, and something to help with these days coming. Maybe not running, but something new. To add a skip to the step, and song to the heart.
July 25, 2025
This was disappointing. It’s less a book about how running and music intersect and more a long list of disparate thoughts this delightfully pretentious music critic has about a lot of very obscure musicians, barely any of them recording anything after 1970.
Ratliff is a runner only in the sense that he uses running as a vehicle to listen to music. He makes it plain he looks down his nose at any runner who has the gall to actually track their distance or pace, or train for a race, or run for any other reason than the reason he runs.
Occasionally he talks about what appears to be the central thesis of the book — the music you’re listening to while in motion can affect your motion itself, like listening to a soaring aria makes you want to run up a hill, or something. I mean, yeah, that makes sense. I run faster when a good metal song comes on. But I needed about five years of music theory classes to understand what the hell this guy was talking about most of the time.
Ratliff is a runner only in the sense that he uses running as a vehicle to listen to music. He makes it plain he looks down his nose at any runner who has the gall to actually track their distance or pace, or train for a race, or run for any other reason than the reason he runs.
Occasionally he talks about what appears to be the central thesis of the book — the music you’re listening to while in motion can affect your motion itself, like listening to a soaring aria makes you want to run up a hill, or something. I mean, yeah, that makes sense. I run faster when a good metal song comes on. But I needed about five years of music theory classes to understand what the hell this guy was talking about most of the time.
November 5, 2025
just totally unlike anything i've ever read. ratliff has a really unique relationship to listening and to running, two things i adore but that i've never tried to parse out the fuzzy middle ground of. i'm particularly taken with how he writes about listening to music in the terms that we usually use to explain running, and the shared language between them: tracks, cadences, forward motion - even narrative. he draws attention to all the ways that we lack the language to explain listening, the discipline it requires and the truths it reveals. i listen to music when i run primarily because i can't stand the sound of my voice, but this book makes me think about all the ways i want to listen to more music, more intentionally, how i might want to renegotiate why i run. i think this was great but also felt a little lofty at times because i don't really know music like that. loved the stuff on jazz though and also ice spice!! chapter 24 was super visually creative.
April 14, 2025
* I'm really grateful to have received a free copy of this audiobook through NetGalley.
A great listen/read.
Although I’m unfamiliar with so much of the music mentioned in this contemplative memoir, I really loved it. It’s truly part memoir, part meditation on marrying running with music, and having writing be a fly on the wall.
I liked Ratliff’s refreshing take on running as a practice, and the fact that he doesn’t race. It was a great reminder of the kind of runner I aim to be and what genuinely keeps me running instead of what motivates me at the surface level.
The writing was crisp and vibrant, occasionally rapturous and rhapsodic. Once in a while, I did feel like I was experiencing the music alongside him because he described it so well.
A great listen/read.
Although I’m unfamiliar with so much of the music mentioned in this contemplative memoir, I really loved it. It’s truly part memoir, part meditation on marrying running with music, and having writing be a fly on the wall.
I liked Ratliff’s refreshing take on running as a practice, and the fact that he doesn’t race. It was a great reminder of the kind of runner I aim to be and what genuinely keeps me running instead of what motivates me at the surface level.
The writing was crisp and vibrant, occasionally rapturous and rhapsodic. Once in a while, I did feel like I was experiencing the music alongside him because he described it so well.
May 1, 2025
As a Runner who runs alone and rarely enters races, I have that in common with Ben. However, I don't run with headphones/earphones, so I can't say how the two interact
That being said, his descriptions of his routes around NYC, and their musical connections resonated with me, from my days long past when I lived in Philly
He does seem to come across, however, as saying 'I know way much more about music than you do' Which is why I'm glad that the publisher was kind enough to create a Spotify playlist of a number of songs & musicians referenced, so that I can get caught up (let me brag right here: I saw Miles Davis)
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1KK...
To paraphrase Murakami, this book could've been titled "What I Talk About Running, While I Talk About Music"
And Murakami would like it
That being said, his descriptions of his routes around NYC, and their musical connections resonated with me, from my days long past when I lived in Philly
He does seem to come across, however, as saying 'I know way much more about music than you do' Which is why I'm glad that the publisher was kind enough to create a Spotify playlist of a number of songs & musicians referenced, so that I can get caught up (let me brag right here: I saw Miles Davis)
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1KK...
To paraphrase Murakami, this book could've been titled "What I Talk About Running, While I Talk About Music"
And Murakami would like it
January 16, 2026
I no longer run, but I like reading about other people's running routines. Run the Song appealed to me because listening to music was vital to my running regime. Ben Ratliff and I have very different musical tastes when it comes to running, though. I'm all about the beats per minute, Ratliff is not. I like a lot of the music he discusses; I wouldn't run to it. Ratliff's writing is precise and careful. That is always a pleasure. Hearing his descriptions of running around the Bronx drew me in. And you've got to admire someone who runs seven days a week at a minimum of four miles a day. Huzzah.
June 30, 2025
I wanted to love this book as a runner and music lover. It came across my radar as a recommendation from one of my favorite music writers, Amanda Petrusich. It's just so dense - made me feel like I was reading underwater (or gasping for air mid-run), if that makes sense. I wish there were more universal truths in here. Instead, it feels like one man's preferred way of running with some particular types of music. There are moments of beauty in there, certainly. However, like many of the musical references in the book, it requires a lot of patience for those moments to reveal themselves.
August 9, 2025
Not a book about running.
Someone who runs is a runner. But Ratliff dismisses this idea and the broad theses that underpin so much of what motivates and inspires many runners, often in the spirit of self-improvement and in search of community, with a kind of misguided critic’s objectivity. Has running ultimately helped him better understand music? Or helped him find his people? It’s unclear, which is too bad because a good running community would tell him the sport can be about the journey or the destination or both.
Someone who runs is a runner. But Ratliff dismisses this idea and the broad theses that underpin so much of what motivates and inspires many runners, often in the spirit of self-improvement and in search of community, with a kind of misguided critic’s objectivity. Has running ultimately helped him better understand music? Or helped him find his people? It’s unclear, which is too bad because a good running community would tell him the sport can be about the journey or the destination or both.
September 19, 2025
An exceptional, engrossing book that will have a long-life of re-reading, decades-hence discovery and word of mouth canonization. Ratliff teases through the overlooked relationship between running and the accompanying music a runner chooses and how this relationship impacts the runner’s perception of movement, music, space and time.
The book is revelatory and the insights on so many things, extending beyond the central subject to discuss our built environments, natural ones, creativity and the unnoticed relationships that form around our lives, routines and passions.
The book is revelatory and the insights on so many things, extending beyond the central subject to discuss our built environments, natural ones, creativity and the unnoticed relationships that form around our lives, routines and passions.
January 17, 2026
National Book Circle criticism 2026.
I was attracted to this book because I am a bit of a music buff and I have taken up taking a walk after work. But this was rather a disappointment imagine your insufferable friend that always talks about running and you other insufferable friend who talks incessantly about somewhat obscure artists like you are 100% familiar with their work. That is this book very self indulgent not sure of the audience but as an ‘average music buff with a bit of interest in ‘how to hear music’ I found this audiobook a real dull and unhelpful grind.
I was attracted to this book because I am a bit of a music buff and I have taken up taking a walk after work. But this was rather a disappointment imagine your insufferable friend that always talks about running and you other insufferable friend who talks incessantly about somewhat obscure artists like you are 100% familiar with their work. That is this book very self indulgent not sure of the audience but as an ‘average music buff with a bit of interest in ‘how to hear music’ I found this audiobook a real dull and unhelpful grind.
October 8, 2025
I’m bummed that i really didn’t like this book (listened to it) since the topic sounded niche and relevant to me — running and music are two of my favorite things, and I’ve always been fascinated by how they intertwine. But I felt lost during most of this book and can’t recommend it. It overall felt like a lot of rambling, specific references I didn’t know, and mundane sightings and reflections that I didn’t resonate with at all.
September 7, 2025
I like Ben Ratliff because he can take academia and translate it for the non-specialist. But this book (100% a Covid project) needs some structure. I appreciate that his whole goal is a lack of structure, but by the end of the first half I had gotten as much as I needed.
It reminds me the most of Questlove comparing music creation to cooking. This is comparing music listening to running.
It reminds me the most of Questlove comparing music creation to cooking. This is comparing music listening to running.
October 7, 2025
Despite the description this book is only tangentially about running — as in I happened to be running at the time I was listening to this music I will now write about at length. Also, nearly all of the music is obscure so, unless the reader brings an exceptional musical knowledge of recordings — some works spanning several hours — prepare to be lost.
December 4, 2025
I love running (and in a fairly similar way to the author-rarely racing, not taking a lot of metrics-just running to run) and I love music. Yet somehow this was a miss. In 200 pages we addressed running but also millennia of music but also culture but also novels but also psychology. It felt completely disjointed throughout
June 26, 2025
I don't really understand what this book is about. And I hadn't heard of most of the music so that added a weird element to it. The author does a nice job on the narration. It's the book that I don't get.
Want to read
September 15, 2025Running and music. Two of my biggest passions. Working my way through the National Book Awards Longlists in Nonfiction, Fiction, Translated Fiction and Poetry.
2025 National Book Awards Longlist for Nonfiction: 4/10
2025 National Book Awards Longlist for Nonfiction: 4/10
December 4, 2025
The author writes on an interesting premise - running while listening allows him to hear more effectively. He enjoys completely different music from me, especially 1960s jazz, which made the actual content difficult to relate to.
July 3, 2025
Pretentious slop. DNF 45 percent
Did not finish
August 28, 2025DNF. I’m a musician, a runner, and an academic, and even still…this wasn’t for me.
Listened on my phone from the library. (Seems like there should have been music, there wasn’t)
Listened on my phone from the library. (Seems like there should have been music, there wasn’t)
Want to read
September 17, 2025On the National Book Award longlist, 2025
September 25, 2025
Not terribly insightful about running, but worthwhile if you also put in the effort to listen to some of the songs mentioned (there's a playlist on Spotify).
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