The 2024 Breck Epic, which took place last month, is a multi-day race event comprised of six epic backcountry loops between 35 and 50 miles long. Beginning and ending in Breckenridge, CO, the event features a cloverleaf format, with each loop utilizing the sprawling trail networks of surrounding Summit and Park Counties.
Below – with stunning photography from Jace Stout, Cort Muller, and Eddie Clark – author Kurt Gensheimer gains elevation and perspective riding the 2024 Breck Epic, a stage race many consider the hardest of its kind in the world. Whether you’re a racer or just there for the experience, the Breck Epic delivers hypoxia, sore legs, and some of the best alpine singletrack you’ll ever ride!
There are mountain bike races, and there’s the Breck Epic. With a reputation as the world’s hardest mountain bike stage race, celebrating 16 years in 2024, the Breck Epic takes riders on a six-day tour of the best singletrack Breckenridge, Colorado, has to offer. Totaling 240 miles and 40,000 feet of climbing, all of it above 10,000 feet elevation, each day of the Breck Epic starts and finishes in downtown Breckenridge.
The Breck Epic showcases this historic gold mining town’s 200+ mile singletrack network, all of it open to mountain biking. Stand in downtown Breckenridge and look up at any mountain in any direction and there’s singletrack trail to get you there. Some of the trails are modern and purpose-built with reasonable grades, giant berms, and tabletops while other trails are raw, primitive 150-year old pack trails shooting straight up the mountain. And then there’s the extensive network of historic flumes and ditches used for delivering water to old mining operations, repurposed into gently graded singletrack, which connects one trail network to the next.
Wake up in the morning, have a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in town, pedal maybe a mile on pavement, then disappear into the high alpine on singletrack, emerging above treeline at a 12,000-foot peak a couple of hours later. That’s the Breckenridge experience. So long as your lungs can tolerate the altitude, no other place in the country can deliver such an alpine experience from a substantially sized town in such a short distance.
Sure, you could have this experience without having to pay money to participate in an event like the Breck Epic, but for a lot of folks who’ve never been to Breckenridge and have heard the legend of its trails, the event makes it easy for them to experience all the highlights with full support, well-stocked aid stations, enthusiastic volunteers and hardworking staff who ensure the safety of riders. But “easy” is a relative term. There is absolutely nothing easy about the Breck Epic. Even completing one stage of this event is a feat of fitness. But to do it day-in and day-out for six days is a life accomplishment. Those who complete the mission receive a belt buckle with the words “Bad Motherfucker” stamped on the inside. BMF is a universally understood acronym at the Breck Epic. BMF status is earned.
As the week progresses, riders’ energy at the start line morphs from defiance and rebellion to submission and acceptance. The altitude crushes almost everyone, including acclimated locals, and those poor sea-level souls are down 30 percent on their power output. Normally, rideable climbs at sea level turn into hike-a-bikes at 11,000 feet, and a 40-mile ride at sea level feels more like 60 miles in Breckenridge.
By day three, lactic acid legs and thousand-yard stares become the norm. It’s no longer about competition as much as it is about survival. By day three, you also find “your people,” folks similar in fitness you’ve been riding near since day one. Instead of them being your competitor, they become your compatriots. You support and encourage each other when times are hard. You hoot and holler together on ripping downhill singletrack. You even share some conversation and laughter when you’re not hyperventilating at the absurdity of it all. You make new friends who might become your best friends through the emotional bond of shared suffering.
There’s an unreasonable amount of suffering at the Breck Epic. Not just for the participant, as it’s evident that riding, let alone racing, an average of 37 miles per day with 5,800 feet of climbing at 10,000+ feet elevation for six consecutive days is a punishing task. But the suffering extends beyond the participant, affecting friends and family members there in support, the volunteers and event staff busting their tails every day with complicated logistics, members of the community impacted by 450 mountain bikers on the roads, and trail users having to dodge a seemingly endless train of knobby tires coming at them.
On the other end of the spectrum, the Breck Epic represents a devoted community and inspirational feats of determination, athleticism, and camaraderie. Completing the Breck Epic is a significant life achievement. Although some riders toe the line to compete and win, far more people do the Breck Epic to simply survive and finish. Considering most riders travel worldwide, living at much lower elevations, everyone feels the crushing effects of altitude. The elevation, not necessarily the six stages, is what makes the Breck Epic so challenging. Unbound? Leadville? Even if you did both back-to-back, the Breck Epic would still be multitudes more challenging.
Then there’s the race director and brainchild of the Breck Epic, Mike McCormack. Known to riders as Mike Mac, he is the Dalai Lama, a scolding parent, and a teenage camp counselor wrapped into one. At 5 PM each day, Mike Mac holds a mandatory riders’ meeting, recapping the day’s activities and previewing the next day’s stage. Mike Mac pulls no punches and suffers no fools. He’s refunded riders’ money and sent them packing if they don’t follow the three basic rules of the Breck Epic: don’t be a dick, don’t litter, and don’t cross the double yellow in town. Oh, and don’t touch the moose.
Witty and insightful with a healthy dose of self-deprecating humor, the evolution of Mike Mac as a race director parallels the evolution of the Breck Epic. The last time I attended the Breck Epic in 2013, the fledgling event was raw and scrappy, just like Mike Mac. His diatribes were more intense and curse-laden back then. But the 2024 Mike Mac is more experienced, mature, calm, and seemingly exhausted. He still peppers his lectures with the occasional f-bomb, but he’s more matter-of-fact about the rules. Get caught breaking them and you’ll get a warning. The next time, you’re out.
All of this is for good reason, as the Breck Epic has an impact on the trails of Breckenridge. The event is not held on a closed course; the trails are open to the public while the event is happening, so riders must be on their best behavior. But when you involve a stopwatch and number plates, misbehavior inevitably happens. Mike Mac has an incredible ability to corral the herd, and the misbehavior in the first day or two disappears by day three after Mike Mac delivers his good news/bad news routine, referred to as “the tickle” and “the slap”. This year he had to deliver a few slaps to riders, but there were far more tickles.
For this “journalist”, after riding three stages my body was completely worn out. Not only was I suffering from altitude, but a nagging chest cold was keeping me up at night. I was grossly undertrained for this event; the 40+ miles of riding on Day 2 and Day 3 were the two longest days of riding this year. By day four, I took a “rest day”, opting to ride with fellow scribe Mike Ferrentino and Breck Epic staff member Sadhu, flagging the much lauded and feared Stage 5 course over Wheeler Pass.
After mostly pushing my bike uphill for an hour on the Colorado Trail, with ankle-twisting rocks and steep grades only the fittest mutants on Earth could ride, I questioned everything about the event. Why the hell do people pay money to abuse themselves like this? What’s the point? This whole event is so ridiculous. I was working up a slam piece in my head as I cursed Mike Mac under my cry breathing. The altitude and sickness were fogging my perspective.
On day five I woke up groggy and negative. I was so ready to fly back home to a reasonable altitude, sleep in my own bed, and be done with Breckenridge. But then I witnessed something that flipped my perspective completely. My brother from another mother, James Adamson, pulled off one of the greatest rides I’d ever seen in my life, winning the Men’s 40+ Wheeler stage by 12 minutes over second place, transcending himself as an athlete. As he lay on the ground hyperventilating while muttering “That was for Roger” – his father who he lost earlier this year – the fog cleared from my mind and I understood the importance of the Breck Epic.
This event is challenging because life is hard, and nothing worth doing is easy. When you emerge on the other side of the Breck Epic, you emerge a different person with more perspective on life and what you are truly capable of as a human. Your efforts might even impact others, like James’ performance had on me. This event might not be for everyone, but for those BMFs in search of where their limits are, few events stack up to the physical challenges and high alpine singletrack rewards of the Breck Epic.
In the last mile of the final Stage 6, the Pro Men’s race leader Howard Grotts suffered a serious accident with life-threatening injuries. Howard is in stable condition, but his road to recovery will be long and expensive, as he is suffering damage to his back, spine, ribs, clavicle, and scapula. Please consider contributing to help him and his family during this difficult time.