The Hennepin Hundred was an incredible, unique experience!
Christopher and I left the house before 11 a.m. Saturday. We stopped for lunch around noon in Rock Falls, then checked into our hotel around 1 p.m. in Moline. We were wired and anxious, but also bored because of all the relative downtime that day.
We caught the bus in Colona (where the race finishes) around 2:45 p.m. and headed to the start line near Sheffield; we arrived there about 3:15 p.m. We spent 90 minutes just waiting for 5 o’clock to arrive. We sipped some electrolytes and water. I used the bathroom twice. I stretched. We chatted up a few fellow runners and volunteers.
As the start time approached, runners gathered at the starting line — under one of the iconic canal bridges. Christopher lined up closer to the front of the pack, while I hung toward the back. The race directors ushered us off, and we hopped onto the canal trail through an underpass decorated like Platform 9 3/4 at King’s Cross Station in Harry Potter.
I tried to maintain a comfortable pace, not settling on a specific interval plan, just running for as long as possible. I didn’t even take my first walk break until about 90 minutes into the race (8.25 miles).
As daylight faded, I put on my headlamp; I turned it on about 7:10 p.m. It was so gross to see the curtain of gnats in my beam of light. I also started run/walk intervals–about 8:00 running and 2:00 walking; I was just trying to run as much as possible. I stopped at every aid station (They were about 5 miles apart, on average.)
I changed my run/walk intervals to about 7:30 running and 2:30 walking for a while, and I hit 15 miles about 8 p.m.
I spent the majority of mile 18 walking and chatting with a fellow runner, and I came through the Mile 20 aid station a little after 9 p.m.
I changed my run/walk intervals to 7:00/3:00, then 6:00/4:00–just trying to keep running as much as possible.
About 10:30 p.m., I had maybe 6.5 miles left. It was really dark–no runners terribly close by, maybe 100 meters ahead and behind. My feet were really hurting at this point and the knots in my neck and left shoulder that had plagued me all week were screaming. But I remained confident I would make to the finish before midnight.
I came through the last manned aid station at Mile 26. I had just eaten at the 6-hour mark, but not a half of a PB&J, as I had eaten every 2 hours before then. I just had a handful of Honey Stingers (a few more than my every-half-hour allotment). There would be another aid station (unmanned) about halfway between this aid station and the finish line; a volunteer told me there would be some snacks there, so I figured I would grab something more substantial there–not that I would need it for the last 2.5 miles, but honestly, I had done so well thus far avoiding the bonk, I didn’t want to chance it with 2.5 miles to go, so I planned to eat.
Because of the inherent discrepancies between actual mileage and GPS-calculated mileage, I thought I had about 3 miles left around 11:15 p.m. But I still hadn’t come upon the last aid station.
Rain started again with just a couple miles left; it again was light but steady. Finally, I came to the unmanned aid station, which was two storage totes, a couple gallon jugs of water and a bunch of 2-liter bottles of soda. I took a swig of the water, but I couldn’t find snacks. I opened one of the totes and pawed around for a moment; I saw a bag of fun-size candy, but I didn’t want that, and I didn’t want to waste time picking something out, opening it and eating it…so I pressed on. I was so close. I just needed to finish. And time was ticking. My watch read about 2.2 miles left around 11:25 p.m.
The rain petered out pretty quickly, and I could tell we were nearing civilization. The look of the trail changed. The surroundings were a bit brighter and less rural. My watch read 11:51 p.m. I knew I didn’t have far to go, so I ran. I talked to myself. I told myself I had to run, that it was time to fly, that I just needed go, that I needed to get in before midnight.
I could see a soft light in the sky ahead, convinced it must be the finish line. I approached and finally could make out the finish line. There weren’t a lot of people there; it wasn’t very loud–very atypical for a finish line, in my experience. But I ran, with a huge smile on my face, across that finish line, just 3 minutes before midnight, officially an ultramarathoner.
I felt remarkably good, considering the time on my feet and wear and tear on my body after 7 hours; I think that’s the difference between not only road running and trail running, but also racing and running relaxed, without a focus on time. I had time goals, sure, but I was determined to finish with a smile on my face–and I accomplished that. I tried to remain in each mile, remain in the experience; sometimes, that meant I walked an entire mile, and other times, that meant I ran 10:00 pace. I firmly believe that attitude translated to how my body felt during and after the race.
Would I do it again? Absolutely.
What next? Fifty-miler, here I come! I’m contemplating my next adventure, and I think it’s going to be a 50-miler–I just need to decide if I want to train over the winter or over the spring and summer.
Distance: 31.0686 miles
Duration: 6:56:56
Average pace: 13:24 per mile