Breck Epic Recap
The Breck Epic has been finished for 96 hours although my
body is still as sore as the day after, despite aggressive
attempts at recovery that have included ample couch time, refreshing hopped
beverages and even a massage. What a great week, what a great race. It was
truly incredible to see this first class event come together in the mountains I
love. I felt like I was part of something special- not like “A Special Evening
with Loggins and Messina,” but the first iteration of a race I think will
become the first successful mountain bike stage race in the US.
I would like to congratulate all my fellow riders, and what a group it was. The overwhelming theme I saw in the field was that of mutual respect- no prima donnas, no pointless aggro passing or other needless race day jackassery that I’ve unfortunately seen more than once. Racers were pumped on the event and it showed in their attitude on the course. In the Men’s SS category, there was great camaraderie and spirited competition. I’m truly glad I accepted the challenge to race SS and mix it up with such a great group of guys.
Conspicuously absent from the Breck Epic was “filler” on the
course, meaning no extended stretches of road or dirt road. Yes the courses
were shorter than the Transalp, but I spent exactly zero minutes in a pace
line, and for a mountain bike racer, that’s a good thing. Even the BC bike race
has huge stretches of smooth dirt road.
The idea of doing the Transalp on a singlespeed is like riding your bike
to work on the interstate- DUMB. At the Breck Epic, it was an imperfect but
very reasonable tool for the race.
The Mt. Guyot and Wheeler Pass loops were truly Big Rides in the best
sense of the concept and racing them on consecutive days offered the field huge
challenge, unbeatable views, a glimpse of the best Colorado has to offer, and
some incredible riding.
Adventure is what draws me to these crazy stage races, and
we were lucky to be immersed in the adventurous history of Breckenridge. The Great American West has always had
this badass swagger just missing in the Northeast where I grew up. Next time
you are in some nappy western mountain town watering hole, check out the photos
on the wall- dudes in full 70’s regalia who just nailed a first descent of some
local peak, grubby miners shoveling snow onto snowbanks higher than their
heads, or guys in blue jeans and Schwinn clunkers who just rode over the pass
into town. Oh yeah, what a tough guy I am on my tricked out, Spot carbon-belt-drive
“singlespeed” compared to these guys. But in some way, riding on those old
mining roads, over the tailing piles, past the abandoned shacks, down the hand
dug flumes, we connected with this rich history of the land, the town, and the
people who walked these hills before we were alive.
Now if it seems like I’m writing an infomercial for the Breck Epic, I suppose there’s some truth to that. Before assaulting my journalistic integrity, consider that the Breck Epic was such an incredible execution of the mountain bike stage race, that I am indeed this psyched about it. Was it perfect? No, but the important things were done right. It’s on my calendar for next year.
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