The stage courses - which change every year - all start and end in the parking lot of Breckenridge’s sprawling Beaver Run resort complex, where pros, hours deep into their post-race beers, high-five their weary cycling comrades. Maybe three or four pros can finish the race without pushing their bikes up lung-bursting climbs that scrape 12,500 feet. Following paths forged a century ago by miners, Breck Epic riders pop over shiny roots, carom through alpine scree fields with rocks as big as their heads and fly down flowing trails. But the Breck Epic is more about mountain biking than it is about racing.
“Soul.” “Vibe.” These are not terms commonly used to describe a bike race that draws several hundred competitors. You get this camaraderie going and I get to hear stories from people I normally wouldn’t hear,” said Wells, 41, who spent the week battling Grotts in a back-and-forth challenge that came down to mere minutes. “With this stage-race format, we are together all week whether you are winning the race or you are the last one across. The pros aren’t getting points for the season like they do in a sanctioned race, but they are vying for serious bragging rights.
This year was likely the deepest field with riders rallying for one of the world’s few mountain bike stage races. The Breck Epic draws the best of the best, with a field of heavy-hitting pros testing their talents in a race like no other. That’s not to say that riders aren’t racing. “You don’t have to do that here so we shouldn’t.” It’s about maintaining the vibe and it’s about not leaving your integrity on the course for a handful of seconds off your time,” said the race director who built singletrack next to paved trails in his hometown of Eagle so school kids could taste the freedom of pedaling dirt. Even though his race is not sanctioned by cycling’s governing bodies, don’t even think about signing up if you’ve ever been crosswise with anti-doping officials. McCormack, with his signature cowboy hat, puffy jacket and flip-flops, is a soft-spoken boss but he can wield a big stick. The rules haven’t changed now that he’s hosting more than 500 racers in what has become one of North America’s most grueling tests of cycling endurance, drawing the best of the knobby-tired tribe in a weeklong sufferfest and celebration. In 2009, he told the 100 riders in the inaugural race his three rules: be nice to each other, don’t litter and wear a helmet. “It seems like all the strongest riders from their different towns and regions around the world are attracted to this race.”įor the last nine years, bike boss Mike McCormack has cultivated the race he founded with a carefree vibe that mirrors the free-spirited sport of mountain biking. “This is the burliest representation of hardcore mountain biking,” said O’Neil, a Summit County mountain athlete and writer covering the race for Bike Magazine along with teammate Dave Gelhaar. The race finished Friday afternoon with several hundred participants completing what is considered the most demanding mountain bike race in the country. He was on the ground more than a few times during the Breck Epic, a grueling six-day mountain bike stage race spinning more than 240 miles and climbing more than 40,000 vertical feet on the alpine singletrack above Breckenridge. Even a giant scrape down his chest that Devon O’Neil can’t precisely connect to a specific crash. Digital Replica Edition Home Page Close MenuīRECKENRIDGE - Just about every body part is bloodied.
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