MOTM Led Zeppelin

This month's MOTM is Led Zeppelin so my job here is to try to explain that in a run-on sentence although how can I explain that when it's strictly my preferences at work and while I'm no music theorist [there are those who are] and they will agree that the discussion of why I love this music for running may lend itself to a lengthy attempt to articulate how I process music in general which of course takes all the romance out of it for me, I guess I'm reluctant to do what I think is whittle music down to information or signifiers, which it may be at most simple or maybe it just appears that way when organized intellectually, yet this is necessary so music theory can be taught and also, when paralleled with a brief mention in Einstein's special theory when he insists that geometry is 'true' because it corresponds with stuff we experience though experience isn't required for geometry to be 'true' or moreover kind of true, in fact, what we can know by this is that the equation is more true than what can be experienced...and maybe (this is me now and not Mr. Einstein) it is that the word true is actually too impressive of a term to use EVER even when discussing planes/polygons and why Led Zeppelin is, for me, so relevant to running while oh let the sun beat down upon my face as a non-logical axiom was spun from an innocent length of road that when threaded together with a very percussive song in which the guitar emphatically mirrors that profound percussiveness we are so very pressed to acknowledge an equally heavy and dark cello, my god, which is so odd to me because my experience has been with the cello, while very moving, not as dark but I am continually reminded of the tenacity and courageousness of the artist so much that here I am not sure if I am more seated in Page than in that nameless cellist, or that out of this passion for running and new-sprung physical strength emerges a new way to process, a new set of preferences and a brand new axiom that marries music theory, relative positions and foot strikes thereby, which is even better, completing an epic trifecta of 60 degree angles that I call perfect.