Singletrack Dirt: Breck Epic on a Singlespeed

By Singletrack Dirt
May 20, 2009

The The Breck Epic is a six-day mountain bike stage race held on the backcountry trail network surrounding Breckenridge, CO. Over 200 miles and 40,000 feet or so of climbing await the participants, most of it over 10,000 feet. Their suffering promises to be legendary. Proceeds from the event underwrite local open space initiatives; trail maintenance, increased signage…basically the care and feeding of the whole twisted, beautiful mess.

Our man in the field is Jeff Carter, a physician from Denver. He'll be adding his particularly twisted take to the altitude-induced madness with three pre-race blog articles, then one each day once the festivities begin. Jeff, in a moment of delerium, has agreed to race on a Spot Bikes belted singlespeed.

May I present...

PRE-RACE : VOL. 1 2009, By Jeff Carter

Lessons Learned

“Where’s Uncle Jeff?” I heard my four-year-old nephew ask as I crest the meadow hill – dead last in a six-person field in the weekly local race, happening just steps from the farmhouse where I was vacationing with my family in Western Mass.

I look back and realize I learned a few things that day.

It was the week after my first Leadville 100, and I was totally impressed with myself and my new big belt buckle. I had flown back for a family vacation in the Berkshires. My suburban Connecticut mother, about as in touch with mountain bike racing as our last president was with reality, had mentioned “Oh Jeffrey, they have mountain bike races there.” Sure enough, there was a thriving weekly race scene there and evidence of a recent 24-hour race on the property. Five PM, start by the barn. “Neato”, I thought to myself, but down deeper I thought: “Shit, I’m gonna clean up.”

So I line up with some super nice guys and sprint out to the lead on the first lap, racing a singlespeed for the first time. (Puhhlease, it’s 12 miles, and I live in Colorado.) As lap one of three concludes, I’m quickly imploding. I wonder if I really could barf up my heart. “Did that dude just pass me on a cross bike?” I ask myself, incredulous. End of lap two, I’m in tatters, lungs on fire, legs in hell, cursing my choice of bike, just in sight of the guy in front of me, and in last place. Lap three... the aftermath of Leadville gets the best of me and it’s game over. I lose touch with everyone. My family wondering if I’m OK.: “Jeez, he said he was good at this.” Immediate lessons I learned here: 1) I’m not all that fast; and 2) Never race a singlespeed again.

The conclusion of the race effortlessly gives way to introductions, brews, stories. “Nice job on the cross bike.” “Oh yeah, I know him.” “Yeah, the Vermont 50 is killer.” And from my mother, “Jeffrey just did the Leadville 500.” “Jeez Mom, it’s the one hundred.” And so I revisited a lesson I’d learned before and since: It isn’t about the results, but the effort and the experience. Fortunately I’d kept my Broadway Joe swagger to myself.

It is with this “fond” memory of singlespeed racing that I mull over my decision to race the Breck Epic on a Spot 29er singlespeed. Race with a good buddy? Check. Chance to write about it? Check. Cool event? Check plus. Singlespeed belt drive? What the shit? Don’t bikes need chains? Singlespeeds, racing and Summit County seem as intelligent a combo as liquor, matches and gasoline. Twenty-niner wheels? What’s the deal with those weirdo big wheels anyway? Do I have to grow some angry-dude beard and wear knee socks to ride this bike?

Of course. I’m totally in.

And yet this damn-the-torpedoes attitude gets me into trouble. As in stage races past, I have a partner guaranteed to race me into the ground. My current partner, Gavin Hayes, has raced in something called “World Championships.” Who am I kidding? I’m a dude with a job and a mortgage, looking at the backside of my thirties. For most people, a vacation translates into a rented house in Nantucket and a week of getting sauced at noon. Or wearing a beret and sipping espresso at a cafe in Paris. And yet I choose to wear a white spandex race kit and puke my brains out on Boreas Pass.

So here I am, not quite May, not quite fit, and not quite certain this will go as planned. But I do know, like anyone planning on racing the Breck Epic, or any other mountain bike stage race, that the event isn’t just the week it happens or the ten days you’ll be gone. It’s the cold, rainy road rides, the urgency of your training, the impulse purchases (a thousand bucks is totally reasonable for wheels) the days before you leave, and the stories you’ll tell for years to come. Yeah, I’m ready for that crazy big wheel bike and the Breck Epic.

--Jeff Carter

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