I've been deeply fascinated by rhythm long before I was into running. From the age of 10, playing percussion has been an all-consuming pursuit—from my early beginnings on the snare drum, through middle school and high school band, marching band, Orchestra, countless hours in the practice room, competitions, performances, etc. The list is endless, just like number of drums that exist in the world. Percussion performance was the priority, and rhythmic repetition was my fuel. Then it was onto the University of Colorado at Boulder to study Percussion under Douglas Walter and Carl Dixon. My life has always revolved around music.

While studying at CU, my passion for running in the mountains started to blossom. While growing up, running was always there for me— running around Town Lake in Austin, Texas, with my brother and Dad was something I looked forward to every weekend. Being active and experiencing the natural world on 2 feet was rooted in my DNA. Running was a way to explore my backyard, on trails and roads, finding adventure close to home. My body was always searching for a rhythm. Footsteps motioning between floating and rebounding, like a legato stroke from a stick on the drum, bouncing, ready for the next step forward. It wasn't until moving to Colorado that my passion for running deepened and started to intertwine with my music. 

While at University in 2014, I received my first sampling of Brazilian percussion through one of my professors, Carl. He teaches the Bateria at CU and is a Brazilian percussion wizard. "The term bateria means "drum kit" in Portuguese. In Brazil, the word is also used for a form of Brazilian samba band, the percussion band or rhythm section of a Samba School."

I quickly became engrossed in Samba music, and the rhythmic intricacies that existed in this style of music fascinated me. Playing in the Bateria reminded me of being in the marching band in high school, but less robotic and more soulful. Unlike some more traditional, classical, stoic music, samba embodies the spirit of movement and groove. The term for this movement is Ginga, and it refers to how a dancer or musician moves. I began to draw this connection to the movement of running. Brazilian music incites motion in the listeners; in the same way, running evokes movement in the natural world for me. My mind began to wonder what would happen if I applied the grace and poise from my musical background to the art of moving fluidly and smoothly up the hill.

I was back to being a beginner, learning an entirely new set of instruments for the first time — and learning a new way to move through the mountains. Yes, it’s still running and drumming at its essence, but I was ready to dig deeper. I was starting to apply the techniques I had learned over the years, but with a fresh perspective. In search for new connections and possibilities.  

Over the past three years, I've revolved my life around bringing these two pursuits closer together—experimentation with rhythm in motion and blurring the lines in my running and musical endeavors. More recently, the expression of these passions has taken shape in the form of music and film.

My good friend and filmmaker Thomas Woodson and I had this idea to tell the story of rhythm in motion visually. Drawing the connection between my life as a runner and drummer. Through this idea, Tempo. Movements in Mountains was born. "Tempo is a conceptual exploration of the connections Kyle Richardson finds between his athletic pursuits in Boulder's Flatirons and his background as a musician. Experienced through three short movements, Kyle performs a live score in a visceral interpretation of his expression in the hills."

I feel very grateful and fortunate to be able to share my story in this context. But ultimately, my goal for Tempo isn't to propel and louden my voice. I don't want this to be about me. It's about the connection between rhythm and motion. I want to set the stage to be able to share and elevate other people's stories —share our commonalities while also giving space for individuals to express themselves through music and running.

Enter Odin Aguiar, born and raised in the vibrant and colorful Santa Teresa Neighborhood in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. 

One day, Odin sent me a message on Instagram. He applauded me for the film and explained how the connection between running and music resonated with him. Odin, a lifelong runner and musician was immediately captivated by the concept. I responded to him, thanking him for his kind words. I left our conversation by saying that I had a dream to one day visit Brazil and use the Tempo platform to share the story and relationship of samba and running with a local. 

The call from the Repinique was beginning. The way forward was taking shape, and it was only a matter of time before Odin would play his response.

Chapter 2 coming soon…