Mile 52 Blues

Song story & origins

Introduction

Mile 52 Blues appears on Black Hills Dirt (2012), an EP I built as a high-energy soundtrack for trail riders. A year earlier I’d made No Standing for runners when my friend Ryan Phillips launched the Black Hills 100 ultramarathon; then in 2012 a friend of his was starting the Tatanka 100—a 100-mile trail bike race in the Black Hills—and asked if I’d craft something similar to kick off that event. The result wasn’t a lyric-heavy meditation but a blues-rock, funky track meant for headphones on the trail—music first, words riding shotgun.

Where the song came from

Because this was written for a race, I started with the simple idea that the lyric should move through the course—mile markers appearing inside the verses—while the arrangement keeps building. The words aren’t there to carry a narrative; they’re there to give you something to lean on while the track climbs. I wanted that sense of progress: 21, 33, 45, then the title’s 52, like notches on the body’s timeline.

What the song is saying

If there’s a philosophy in it, it’s this: the moment you realize you’re just past halfway in a hard thing is often when you crash into discouragement. Your mind clocks how tired you are and quietly does the math: I’ve got that much left again. That’s the mile-52 blues—not defeat, but that sag where you ask what you’re made of. Of course, most racers talk about pushing through the wall a little later; you get a few more miles down the trail and the legs come back. But the halfway wake-up is real, and I wanted the lyric to name it.

Music and arrangement

This one is about sound more than speech: all electric guitar, a groove designed to start hot and keep rising. I played with pedals, swapped rhythmic feels, and baked in instrumental breaks after those early verses so the track could breathe and then hit harder. The writing mantra was “repeat and vary”—the blues form allows that—so you hear familiar phrases return with fresh edges while the mix pushes forward. It was a blast to track, mix, and master, chasing the tone that keeps a rider (or runner) upright and moving.

Why it stays with me

I usually lead with story and images; here the story is the body’s arc in the middle of a long day: confident, alert, grateful just to be alive at 45, then honest about the blues at 52, and stubborn enough to keep turning the pedals. It’s fun, it’s loud, and it does exactly what I hoped—gives you energy when you’re staring down the second half.

Source: New Music Memoir (1).docx