Becoming An Ultra-Marathoner On A Tiny Patch Of Concrete Inside MCF Lino Lakes

By Andre Anderson, Minnesota Reformer

October 6, 2025

Last year I spent 730 hours — one month — running, logging a total of 4,105.2 miles.

I was not running along the North Shore of Lake Superior in my hometown of Duluth, which is my favorite place to run. I was not running on any one of the numerous trails in this great state. I did not even run a single official race last year.

No, I was running all year in the tiny prison courtyard at Minnesota Correctional Facility Lino Lakes.

There is nothing I would rather be doing than distance running. I love the rhythm of my footsteps as I trudge through the snow as the wind whips my face. I feel alive when I am running. It is as though all the anxiety and cares of this world fade away. I have found a way to take all the nervous energy I hold inside and burn it as fuel when the going gets tough. Pushing my body to its limit has provided a new sense of freedom that I have not experience outside of running.

I am 38 years old and have been a distance runner my entire adult life. But I never ran an ultramarathon — anything over the traditional 26.2 miles — until I came to prison.

Prior to the pandemic, the prison yard and courtyard were open for just 45-minute intervals throughout the day. My motto was: All Yard, Every Yard, I Run.

This equated to 20 miles on a good day.

During the peak of the pandemic, I was confined to my cell for 21 hours a day. The other three hours I was allowed to go outside to the courtyard. I decided I was going to run the entire time — every day. The pressure created by the quarantine was my fuel to run. After six months of running, I propelled myself into the best shape of my life. Little did I know, I was training for an ultramarathon.

In January 2022, the COVID-19 protocols were finally lifted. I anticipated the schedule to return to normal.

The unthinkable happened: Everything changed — for the better! The courtyard was now open from 7 a.m. until sunset when the yard lights came on. I could not believe it — for the first time in my life I ran an ultramarathon — by accident. I set out that first day under the new policy to run as long as I could; it never even crossed my mind that I may run farther than I have ever run before — I put in 30 miles.

This was the beginning of my ultra career.

I have never looked back since leaping forward into this new realm of freedom. For 14 months, I made the best use of this inadvertent policy change. I ran as much as I could, as often as I could, for as long as I could.

The courtyard I ran on is a paved concrete triangle between two living units. One unit was shut down due to staffing issues, and the other was my housing unit.

The triangle was super small. I measured it using dental floss and found it was 294 feet for one lap, or 18 laps per mile.

One long leg of the triangle was 40 strides long, and two short legs were 26 strides apiece. That’s 92 steps per lap. There were two acute angles and one right angle with a few feet of elevation change. It is the oddest track I ever ran on, but necessity turned it into the ground of my greatest triumphs.

The weather was my friend. The -40° F windchill or 106° F heat index did not stop me last year. I have lived in Minnesota my entire life and know there is no such thing as bad weather — only bad clothing. In the winter, I dressed in layers, including a pair of mittens that I sewed out of socks. I used petroleum jelly under my eyes to prevent frostbite.

In the summer, I ate ramen noodle seasoning packets in lieu of salt pills, drank water by the gallon, and changed my wet clothes as often as I could.

Feeling the weather was how I knew I was still alive.

The cool thing about my running track was that it sat next to the Lino Lakes water tower, a large outcropping of cottonwood trees, and the southbound lanes of I-35W.

If you looked west when you drove by during those years, you might have seen me out running.

It might not seem like much to the everyday person, but I found a new appreciation for the small things. I had a gopher friend who poked his head up every once in awhile. A pair of bald eagles flew overhead and patrolled this piece of land. Small airplanes flew overhead, as if to see what is going on at this facility. The sunrises were a beautiful way to start a run and the sunsets signaled the end.

On March 12, I started running at 7:19 a.m. and — except for two mandatory counts — did not stop until 7:08 p.m. for a total of 56 miles. It was the best run of my life.

For now.

The Minnesota Reformer is an independent, nonprofit news organization dedicated to keeping Minnesotans informed and unearthing stories other outlets can’t or won’t tell..