3/31/04 – Preparations and travel were exhausting. An $80 fee was demanded because my box contained a bicycle. Then, a large surprise as I stepped off the plane in St. Louis: the sun was nowhere to be seen. It was cold as we checked into the downtown Marriott, the ‘host’ hotel of the 2004 olympic marathon trials. The hotel was thankfully short on snobbery and patronizing staff, unlike last year’s stay at the Chase Park Plaza. The room was small, but an acceptable setting for a home-base for the next few days.
4/1/04 – We were greeted in the morning by shocking weather for the midwest: fog, overcast and cold. It looked like it was twenty below down by Busch stadium, where workers were pretending to work–mostly standing around chatting or driving golf carts around.
We left despite the cold, to go take another look at the race course in Forest Park. I love to hear how beautiful people think this park is. It’s ok, as far as city parks go, but I can’t see beyond the fact that it is an island of manufactured “nice” surrounded by a sea of blight: dilapidated and run down St. Louis. The air felt surprisingly good as I rode around next to Paula running. Then, a real shock, the sun started peeking through the thick clouds. It was time to ride.
Chubb Trail
My research indicated that the most technical trail in the St. Louis area was the Chubby Chubb trail. Supposedly it is “the bomb”, in fact (don’t you love MTBR). I drove southwest in our rented Buick Le Sabre (which still couldn’t handle the bike box in its huge trunk) to Lone Elk state park and the Chubb trail. I parked in an empty lot and then headed down the inviting single track. It dropped then quickly spit out onto a dirt road that crossed the railroad (just a stop sign, no lights or anything) over to the Meramac river. The river was muddy but carrying an impressive amount of water. The trail stayed on the bank of the river, crossing huge sections of deep mud. It was a treat to ride on a slippery mess of a trail. I often rode the trails in the foothills of Salt Lake too early–before they dried out. But in AZ it is very rare to find mud anywhere. The creek crossings were treating me as well.
I knew that the claims of extreme technicality were likely inflated or even ridiculous, but I was really beginning to wonder if the trail was even going to have a rock or two on it. I opted for the “high river” route since I was already covered in mud, which lead me through a nice meadow, then turned left into Tyson State Park. Here the trail climbed and got a bit interesting. I actually had to unclip on the one ledge section that I had seen a picture of on the internet. It’s definitely rideable, but I blew my chance trying to decide what line to choose. The rest of the climb was easy, then I ran into a young guy on a bike at the top, huffing and puffing. I asked him where the left trail (signed by a boulder falling off a cliff) went. He said that it goes back to the Chubb trail parking lot, and had some “roller coasters”, so I took it. There were a few interesting sections here, and a surprisingly nice view with a park bench. At the end of the trail I learned that I was on the “Flint Quarry Trail”, which had a nice steep drop back to the pavement. I climbed the road back to the Chubby trail and began a short and semi-technical climb. A few switchbacks provided a nice challenge, slip-slip slipping away. I stayed on focus and made it through unscathed. Soon I was back at the top of the Flint Quarry trail, where I headed back down “the ledge” and back to Lone Elk State Park. A nice ride with a chance to flex a technical muscle or two. It definitely recovered my psyche from the doledrum of airports, downtown St. louis and freeway traffic.
4/2/04 – Preparations for the race. I didn’t take the car out for a ride in case it was needed in St. Louis, and I needed the rest anyway. Paula is doing well. Very calm and ready to race. At the mandatory athlete’s meeting we learned that no bikes would be allowed on the course and that anyone with a bike spectator would be disqualified. So much for my plan.
The expo and downtown St. Louis were tolerable and the sun was shining bright. We had some surprisingly nice walks around the city.
4/3/04 – I walked Paula down to the buses at 5:15am, then grabbed some toast and juice at the VIP room. She did not seem too nervous, which was either good or bad; I was not sure.
We drove (my original plan was to ride through downtown to the race) to Forest Park with plenty of time to find a good place to view. It was cold but compared to last year’s freeze fest at the national championships, it was toasty. The sun started warming things up quickly.
The Michelob truck headed towards us, with Blake Russell well in front of the other leading women. They were running incredibly fast–15 minute first 5k. I saw at least 3 or 4 guys riding along side their athletes on bikes. These were not middle packers they were following/pacing, but top 10 runners. So much for the disqualification. Paula was in 30th or 40th, also running very fast but looking good.
We walked to the triangle, where the runners pass 3 times per loop and watched the race unfold. It was exciting to watch the runners pass and get passed. It seemed like everyone was really going for it and probably running too fast at the start–especially the leader, Blake Russell. It was impressive to do some math on how fast these ladies were running. I couldn’t run with the leaders even for a mile at the end of the race. Or, I could, but then I’d completely dead and about to explode. They were all very focused, seemingly ignoring the crowds cheering them on. Many of them didn’t look like they were having much fun, either. But you could tell some were enjoying it.
People on bikes were everywhere, including on the course, following their runners. It burned me for a while, but this course is really so spectator friendly that a bike isn’t needed. I witnessed more than a few close calls with people on bikes (getting in the way of runners or spectators), so I was also glad to not be the target of anyone’s wrath.
Paula continued to look strong and unphased through about mile 17. I thought maybe this would be the race where she had everything together to speed up and really push it in. But the next time we saw her she was definitely looking fatigued and slowing down. But she held on to the end, finishing with a respectable time, but definitely out of gas. In retrospect she thinks she should not have slowed down and let the group of fast girls she was running with go. She was too worried that she was running to fast, but thinks should would have hurt the same at the end, but have been more motivated to stay fast if she was with some faster people. Yet another piece of the marathon puzzle is learned. It’s definitely a difficult thing to get “right,” and I admire those pushing themselves to slowly, iteratively, figure it out.
After the race we walked around even more, then waited in line after line to ride the tram to the top of the Gateway Arch. I felt like I was at Disneyland, as a 12 year old, except that this “park” is run by the National Park Service. I laughed when I saw their NPS hummer on the grass outside the arch, and then laughed harder when the guys at the metal detector were wearing full brimmed “ranger” hats. My tolerance for tourist traps like this, and the masses of people flocking to them, is low. I was ready to get out of there before we walked anywhere near it.
One of the employees mentioned that prior to 1967 you had to climb more than 1000 stairs to reach the observation deck, further stating to trust her that it was not worth it. I beg to differ. Very few would be able to make it and the deck wouldn’t have been crammed tight with hundreds of oogling tourists. It might have actually been a fun challenge. 680 feet is not a very long climb.
The view from the top was not very impressive (I’ll take a small view on a hill over it, especially if it is devoid of screaming kids and nascar fans). It was interesting to sit still and feel the arch moving in the wind, however. It was very slight, but a strange sensation. I was glad to head back down and away from the crowds. The city was dragging me down, and I was glad to leave to somewhere a bit more reasonable: Potosi.
An hour and a half later we were in the small town, where you could actually walk somewhere without being accosted by cars and crowds of people. The $40 super 8 was much preferable to the towers of the Marriott, if nothing else because you could use the stairs over the elevator (the stairs are locked at the bottom of the Marriott).
4/4/04 – Berryman trail
Once again, this trail is surrounded by big hype. The best trail between the Appalacians and the Rockies, supposedly. People drive 12 hours in all directions to ride this IMBA “epic” ride. The trail is 24 miles of continuous singletrack, which is one of the longest I’ve heard of.
Paula’s mother kindly dropped me off at the Berryman campground where a couple of mountain bikers were camping. I headed out counter clockwise (the “hard” way) and was pleasantly surprised by the trail. Excellent trail construction and a high fun factor. After a while I had somewhat lost my bearing, but just kept on the easy to follow trail. This trail definitely gives you a “lost in the woods” feeling.
I ran into a group of 5 mountain bikers, one hero leading the group on a singlespeed and a couple bringing up the rear, walking their bikes. I couldn’t believe someone was walking on this trail, but there it was. At Brazil creek I soaked myself in the deep water, then found MYSELF walking on the switchbacks out of the campground. These couple of turns, which are eroded away to roots and rocks are the reason the other direction is easier. It was the only section of the trail that was very challenging. But that was ok, the trail was a nice ramble through the forest and was really just what I needed.
I stopped to take some photos and to eat a bit, but was done with the loop in about 3 hours. Near the end I was growing a bit tired of the homogeneous nature of the trail–the occasional forest road that I crossed actually looked more tempting, if only for a change of pace.
Back at Berryman, I sat, then watched the 5 riders roll in, then chatted with the singlespeeder, who had driven 3 hours from Springfield, IL. He was surprised when I told him I thought the trail was easy and not rough at all. I dried my feet and socks in the sun for a few minutes then set off down the road to Highway 8.
It was a nice ride through the countryside until the traffic picked up and the shoulder disappeared near Potosi. The trail description claimed it was 12 miles, but it was actually 21. I started digging deep and riding hard near the end, just to get out of the 60 mile an hour truck passing zone. Riding through downtown was fun, complete with people giving me strange looks–a dorky cyclist covered in mud and wearing the UofA’s “Scarlet Letter” jersey.
4/5/04 – Berryman, Home
We all headed to Berryman for a quick ride and hike. Definitely worth the effort and the place was deserted. Then, we frantically put all of the pieces together to get us out of MO and back on planes to Tucson and Salt Lake. My first view of traffic on the freeway reminded me how much better things were back in Potosi. But, the worst part was picking up my bike case in downtown St. Louis: this afternoon was the season opener for the Cardinals. People were swarming everywhere in red official Cardinals attire, beers in hand. The line for tickes extended for blocks, and was blocking our access to the hotel. As I jammed the bike box into the back seat, throwing bags all over the street, fans were walking on all sides of the car. The police helped us get through the herds of cattle and back on the freeway, where were met by a traffic jam–grid lock near the airport.
No $80 fee for the bike on the way back, and the flight was quick and easy. We flew right over both the Chubb and Berryman trails–which I amazingly was able to identify from the plane. Overall a good trip.
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