I grew up in a suburb of St. Louis, Missouri. It was a suburb in the quintessential American way that you instantly envision when you hear the word “suburb,” with numerous cul-de-sacs, manicured lawns and cookie-cutter lots plopped down one after the other. I was not yet a runner—of distance or trails—but had I wanted to. There weren’t many options. Once I found the sport in college, I almost immediately sought off-road runs and, ultimately, pursued trail and ultrarunning.
Having spent portions of summer break in Colorado and Arizona as a kid, I began venturing west to run long distances in the cool, mountain air during summer breaks. Eventually, I moved to Denver, Colorado, and then to Flagstaff, Arizona, to chase bigger mountains, steeper trails and faster times at ultra-distance events. The suburbs of St. Louis continued to be a place that I visited a few times each year to see family, but it never occurred to me to race an ultramarathon while I was back. During my 12 years of racing, I had never run a trail race in the state of Missouri until I lined up for the 2023 Ozark Foothills 50k on April 15.
Photo: Marcus Janzow
Greensfelder Park sits perched above Six Flags in Wildwood, a suburb of St. Louis. But this 1,734-acre piece of Wildwood feels nothing like a suburb. It feels wild and open and more like the rolling foothills of Colorado than a suburban residential area packed with concrete and asphalt. The narrow, winding road leading into the park nimbly traverses bluffs until it tops out near the visitors center, adjacent to the parking lot where the Ozark Foothills races start and finish.
The bounty of race distances—marathon, day and night 50ks, 50-miler and 100-miler—utilize nearly every inch of the park’s trail network, which boasts 25 miles of mostly single-track trail. My race, the 50k with a cushy 8 a.m. start time, consisted of two 15.5-mile loops.
The Ozark region is vast, encompassing much of Missouri and extending into Oklahoma and Arkansas. The topography includes rolling hills, steep bluffs and sometimes picky terrain littered with layers of limestone, sandstone and dolomite. The mountain bike-friendly trails, which, though rocky at times, are primarily dirt, remain runnable for the well-to-do trail runner. The biggest climbs last not much more than a mile while climbing around 300 vertical feet.
Photo: Marcus Janzow
Once the race began, I navigated the first of two loops under mostly sunny skies, amidst the thick, humid air, in just over two hours, stopping for a couple of minutes at the halfway point to chat briefly with my crew of family members and refuel.
As I began the second loop, the warm, dewy air cooled and the winds picked up. Clouds poured over the bluffs and rain began to fall. I would find myself later that evening in a basement during a tornado warning, while runners still on the course would shelter for some five hours as the storm passed. Luckily, no tornado presented itself, but a ferocious lightning storm blanketed the area. The flash-bang rhythm lasted for only 20 minutes while I was on course, but the lightning bombarded the area with repeated blows.
The author celebrating with his family. Photo: Marcus Janzow
Eventually, the lightning storm moved on and so did I—with a bit more haste and a touch of anxiety—albeit more slowly, as the torrential rain turned the trails into a muddy paste. I plodded through the remaining miles, stopping at the last two aid stations to down some water and Coca-Cola, eventually finishing in 4:18:35.
After more than a decade of racing, I finally finished my first ultramarathon in the suburbs of my hometown of St. Louis. It’s true that you have to go away to come back, and perhaps you can’t fully appreciate the beauty of a place until you do.
Results 50K Day | 50K Night | 50 Miles | 100 Miles