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Seeking Adventure? Discover Ann Arbor’s Hidden “Loop of Pain”

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Seeking Adventure? Discover Ann Arbor’s Hidden “Loop of Pain”

Filmmaker documents Ann Arbor’s “Loop of Pain,” a hidden network of trails connecting urban parks for a unique mountain biking adventure.

Photo: Loop of Pain Screenshot, Creative Commons

Looking for an outdoor adventure close to the urban buzz?

Within the heart of Ann Arbor, an adventurous spirit lies hidden within the city’s parks and natural areas.

Jen Proctor’s short documentary Loop of Pain uncovers this urban wilderness where mountain bikers have carved out a thrilling, unofficial trail system known as the Local Loop, or aptly, the “Loop of Pain.” Part history, part homage, Proctor’s film dives into the rugged terrain and community efforts behind this unique biking experience. It’s a journey into a side of Ann Arbor few know about—an outdoor adventure that awaits, just minutes from downtown.

“You ask ten different people what it is, you’ll probably get twenty different answers,” says Brian Butrico, hinting at the loop’s mystique. “There’s no official parking lot or trail map.”

Loop of Pain Screenshot, Creative Commons

For local riders, the lack of formal structure only adds to the charm. “You can’t just, like, go to a trailhead like you would for a normal mountain bike trail,” notes Ty Corle. Instead, the loop connects various trail segments throughout Ann Arbor’s parks, like the Bluffs, Kuebler Langford, and Barton Nature area, all pieced together by determined mountain bikers.

Though there’s no clear starting or ending point, many riders begin in city parks, moving from patch to patch. “What the local loop does is connect trails within each of these parks, and then there are connector trails between the parks,” says Butrico. The result is a nearly 15-mile route, a mix of dirt, gravel, paved stretches, and challenging hills like “Hee-Haw.”

Loop of Pain Screenshot, Creative Commons

Cyclists ride through Barton Nature Area, cross under M14, pass Whitmore Lake Road and Pontiac Trail, and wind through Leslie Woods. It’s a trail system known only to the dedicated, shared by word of mouth.

The loop’s origins date back to the 1980s, long before mountain bikes were commonplace. “Finding a mountain bike and getting on it was an immediate connection to the best part of being a seven-year-old,” shares Meg Delaney of the Potawatomi Mountain Biking Association, describing how riders like her would “come back just bruised and bloody with broken bikes and grins on their faces.”

Loop of Pain Screenshot, Creative Commons

Jason Aric Jones, Former President Michigan Mountain Biking Association, Michigan Trails Advisory Council recalls how the trail took shape with the help of the local cycling community, noting, “The initial ‘Loop of Pain,’ it was called, was a road bike route…mountain bike people started showing up, and we started saying…let’s start looking around for trails here and there.”

“Sure enough, at a certain point in the ’90s, it more just gravitated all towards mountain bikes, but people needed places to ride,” observes Jones.

Loop of Pain Screenshot, Creative Commons

He mentions how the trail system began organically, with local bike shop workers leading the charge. “Essentially, the shop workers…wanted to have places to ride,” says Jones. “They started riding some of the local loop trails. It was really the shop employees of Great Lakes Cycle and Cycle Cellar who really started doing a lot of this work on the local trails.”

As the sport grew, conflicts with the city emerged. “There was a push to ban mountain bikes from Bird Hills,” recalls Dave Borneman, former natural area preservation manager. But rather than see the parks closed to bikes, the local community organized, advocating for shared use. A collaborative spirit grew, with riders participating in trail maintenance and erosion control efforts. “We ended up advocating very early on,” says Delaney. Borneman credits local mountain bikers for fostering a positive relationship. “They, as an organization, were really responsible…a good partnership evolved between city parks and local mountain bike groups.”

Loop of Pain Screenshot, Creative Commons

One of the loop’s keystone developments was Olson Park, a former gravel pit, now a multi-use space for bikers, soccer players, and dog walkers alike. Named after Ann Arbor’s former parks director, Ron Olson, the park “was a burned-out gravel pit,” says trail advocate Norm Roller. “We just looped trails around the bumps and piles of gravel…and connected to other parts of the loop.” This collaboration led to a formal trail system in Olson Park, offering local bikers a designated spot to enjoy their sport.

“We would go out…on work days to build the single-track trail,” says Jones, explaining they followed principles from the International Mountain Biking Association to create sustainable trails. Describing the DIY nature of the trail building, he adds, “It was really all pretty much, I believe, hand built by Potawatomi Mountain Biking Association and its members and associates.”

Olson Park before and after. Image: Loop of Pain screenshot

Proctor’s documentary also touches on efforts to legitimize the loop further. “The mystery is fun,” admits Berman, a passionate cyclist, “but I’d rather see more people out enjoying bikes or running…having legitimate ways to connect the portions.” Trail signage, mapping, and formalized routes could help the loop reach new heights, offering riders an adventure within city limits, minus the risk of “scofflaw” shortcuts across private land.

For now, Ann Arbor’s “Loop of Pain” remains a hidden gem for locals willing to seek it out. It’s an adventure, a community achievement, and a glimpse into Ann Arbor’s rugged side.

View the entire 16-minute video at https://aadl.org/loopofpain