Race Report: 2025 Hennepin Hundred

Fire and Ice

By Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

To start, let me just say that this race has been years in the making! I first heard about Hennepin from friend and race photographer extraordinaire, Jenny T, but it was sold out in 2024. Still, my running partner James managed to snag a spot last year and so I enjoyed the chance to crew him and “scout” the course. I knew immediately that this would be my shot at the elusive sub-20 hour hundred miler, and so when registration for 2025 opened up, I was ON. IT. 

Second, I can’t go any further without commenting on the Hennepin RD, Michelle Hartwig. I’ve run several of her races, and every single one is absolutely top notch. From packet pick-up to finish line and every aid station in between - everything is above and beyond spectacular! If you ever get the chance to run an Ornery Mule race, DO IT. They have several to choose from at all distances.

THE GOAL

Going sub-20 has been a goal for some time. I attempted it at Mamba in 2023, clocking in at 20 hours 8 minutes. So close! Frankly, it was a goal that scared the hell out of me, because I truly did not know if it was achievable. The devil on my shoulder said, “if it doesn’t scare you then it’s not even worth doing!” The angel reminded me that goals should be SMART - specific, measurable, ACHIEVABLE, relevant and time-bound. The A was the problem. I spent a lot of time in my own head, and only vocalized the sub-20 goal to a couple people in the months leading up to this race - because somehow if I didn’t say it out loud, it didn’t actually count. James of course knew, and he was onboard as crew chief to do everything he could to help me shave precious minutes.

THE PREP

So, we’ve got a pretty kick-ass course, a kick-ass event, an ass-kicking goal…all that I had to do was, well, kick my own ass into gear. While this training cycle wasn’t drastically different from previous cycles, it felt like there was a lot more riding on it. So when the long runs came around in late August heat, I didn’t have any wiggle room. I ran in the morning, I ran at night, I ran  feeling like a million bucks and I ran - or more aptly shuffled - throwing up. I ran despite the worst case of PF I’ve ever had that left me in tears after almost every run longer than 7 miles (thank you Dr. Croft for the pro tips a mere 5 weeks from race day that probably saved my foot and my race). I hit the weights with consistency, every week, and if I couldn’t get to a gym, it was body weight exercises at home, in hotels, wherever I needed to get it done. I started paying attention to my daily nutrition a lot more, focusing on eating the right mix of things to properly fuel. I was satisfying both the angel and the devil: one called it “preparation” and the other “desperation.” You can figure out which is which.

The days leading up to the race were hectic - as most October days with school age children are - the twins turned 12 years old on Wednesday, they had their first middle school band concert Thursday, and by 3am Friday morning I was in Moline, IL crawling into an airbnb bed to catch some zzzz’s. (Huge shout out to James for agreeing to leave Memphis at 7p and drive into the wee hours so we could wake up in Illinois on Friday morning - and for keeping tabs on the weather forecast!) Unfortunately that foreast showed near record highs for western Illinois that weekend, topping out just over 90. We went to the packet pick up, snagged our goodies, and I impulsively bought an ice bandana, because James said his was a life-saver at his desert 100k last year. I would soon discover that was the best $21.12 I have ever spent.

THE RACE

Race morning arrived. We made the hour drive from our house to the starting line, hooked up with the other Memphis contingent running and crewing, used the port-a-potty multiple times, and paired up with one of my coaching clients, Lisa, who was running her first hundo. She wanted to go sub-24 and we had decided ahead of time that we would stick together as long as possible, ideally until at least mile 50ish when she would be able to snag her first pacer. Announcements, anthem, horn and we’re off! 

Game faces…

Lisa and I clicked off the first 50k in no time, running the entire distance and chatting the whole way, catching our crews (Hubby Erik for Lisa, James for me) at mile 32.1 in just about 5 hours. We both got ice bandanas, food and fresh electrolytes and were out. It was getting hot, and the next section provided little to no cover for us. We switched to a 90/10 run/walk strategy - running 9/10 of a mile and then walking 1/10. The sun was baking and the nausea was starting to creep in on me, earlier than I would have liked with this big, hairy goal hanging over my head. Here is where I entered the dreaded pain cave. But it wasn’t pain…I was just trying not to puke up everything I put in my mouth. That gag reflex was working overtime! Oh, and things were starting to chafe. Both from sweat, and from the constant dripping of the melting ice onto all of my clothes. I finally understood the Robert Frost poem, Fire and Ice. If I didn’t have that ice around my neck, I’d have melted from the heat and sun. But the constant cold and wet clothes rubbing on skin was also tortuous. And so, I was perishing twice, by both fire, and ice. Truth be told I was just hanging on for Lisa - I needed to stick with her until she could get her pacer. I had to. That was the deal. Finally we got to mile 47.5, where “the boys” were waiting with meds, salt chews, lube, and mercifully a clean port-a-potty. After a quick visit to said potty for both Lisa and I, James set out with us for our short 7 mile out-and-back. I let him fill the space with stories while I retreated into my head, waiting for the salt to kick in and quell the nausea. By the time we got back (mile 54ish), I was turning the corner and Lisa’s pacer was ready to roll.

Cara was awesome. She brought fresh stories and fresh bops to our next 20 miles! We had slowed to an 80/20 run/walk, and eventually to a 70/30 run/walk but were still managing sub-12 minute miles and moving really well. I even managed some fancy footwork to avoid the (very tiny) snake on the trail! At this point I was feeling good. I wasn’t so sure about Lisa though, so I mentally shifted to motivator. During one walk break, we listed 5 positives: we were ahead of our goal pace, we hadn’t pooped our pants, etc. The bar was admittedly fairly low, but anyone who has run long distance knows that NOT pooping yourself is a huge win. Anyway, we hit 70 and I told Lisa we could go 70/30 until we saw the boys again, then we could reevaluate. That was in 5ish miles. I just needed her to give me 5 more 1200s. Piece of cake for bad bitches like us!  We came over a road crossing around mile 72 and heard Cara trip and make a strange noise; she had rolled her ankle coming off the road but insisted she was okay. I later came to find out she was NOT ok and her ankle looked like a grapefruit, but she had decided not to whine since Lisa and I were 72 miles in and probably in no mood for whiners. THAT IS PRO PACER ENERGY!

Cara, Lisa and I…clicking off miles just before sunset

We rolled into mile 74.6 AS at about 13.5 hours, where the boys and Lisa’s second pacer, Nic, were waiting. (Fun fact: Nic and I both ran the Cowboy 200 in 2023, where Lisa was his pacer! Small world.) I was feeling strong and James looked at me and said, “You have 6.5 hours to run a marathon if you want that sub-20; you need to GO.” As much as I wanted to stick with my girl - we’d already come so far - I knew he was right and I needed to put it down. I quickly tapped Lisa on the shoulder, told her I was rolling and that she and Nic should catch me. I set out, still maintaining that 70/30 run/walk ratio, dropping the pace to closer to an 11-11:15 mile. I was starting to do the mental math. I could drop to a more leisurely 15 minute pace for 26 miles, and that would put me RIGHT at the 20 hour mark. BUT. I’d already pushed so FREAKING hard. If I could just maintain a 12 minute pace, I’d be done in a mere 5 hours, putting me closer to 19 hours. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere in the dark the little devil on my shoulder decided that we were no longer satisfied with sub-20. I wanted to, no I HAD TO FINISH sub-19. Everything was starting to hurt. The chafing was burning. I could feel that at least my left big toenail was a goner and there were definitely going to be blisters on the balls of both feet. But somehow, none of that mattered. The ONLY thing that mattered was seeing an 18:XX:XX on that clock. I rolled into mile 88, saw James - I honestly have no idea what I said to him or he said to me - grabbed a swig of cold soda and ran. 12 miles. That was it. I slowed to a 65/35 run/walk that kept me hovering just under a 12 minute pace. I turned on my “Through the Dark” playlist (thank you, Daniel, this playlist has saved my ass more times than you know) and decided I would run for a whole song, walk for a whole song. Mile 94.7 came along. Saw James, said something witty I’m sure (not at all). Kept rolling. Run a song. Walk a song. Run a song. Walk a song. Finally I started to recognize the last miles of trail - I had run them the year prior pacing James to the finish. 

Devil: Run. I started jogging. The lights of the finish line and the fire department came into view. Devil: RUN. I started jogging just a little faster. Just under that bridge. 

Devil: RUN. Now I could see the clock, ticking into the 18:5X:XX minute. 

Devil AND Angel: RUN! I ran. Or as much as someone who has already ran the majority of 100 miles can run. 

I crossed the finish line in 18:56. I wanted to cry, but instead I just smiled the most giant smile and laughed.

Lisa finished in 19:35 - a HUGE accomplishment for a first-timer and I was so stinking proud of her!! She’s a beast and I can’t wait to see what’s next for her. 

THE STATS

3rd OA Female

11th OA Finisher

50k Split: 4:52

50 Mile Split: 8:23*

100 Mile Finish: 18:56:42

*Note this 50 mile time would have WON the women’s 50 mile open race by about 20 minutes. When I say we were hauling, we were HAULING.

TAKEAWAYS

• Never underestimate the power of a few positive statements.

• Salt early and often. Kinda like making a good pasta.

• If you have to pick between heat exhaustion (Fire) and chafing (Ice). Pick chafing. It will heal much faster. Frost got right in the last stanza.

• Race day nutrition starts WEEKS in advance. If you need some guidance, I know a guy.

• There’s always more in the tank than you think!

The Thank Yous

• James of course was more than happy to be my crew chief (and only crew member) and he was AMAZING. I would not be sharing a success story here if it weren’t for his help. He was at every aid station with exactly what I needed: ice, Dr Peppers, and some words of “encouragement.” 

• Daniel - the one other person who I shared this big goal with, and who pulled me through some of the less pretty long run moments (yes, I’m specifically talking about that one 24 miler where I threw up 3 times and might have cried). Not to mention the nutritional advice and guidance for the weeks leading up to the run! Without proper fueling through the training cycle and those tough runs, I would not have been standing on the podium as a sub-19 hundred miler.

• Heather, my coach who put together the training block and helped me adjust when life got in the way! She’s put up with my absolute craziest ideas for a LOT of years and always comes with a positive outlook on whatever bullsh*t I come up with.

• Everyone who shared a mile, a random trail passing, a snack or good vibe with me on this journey.