The Breck Epic Mega Epic: An Ultra-Endurance Mountain Bike Race

I signed up for the Mega Epic looking for my outer limits. I wanted to find them and push them further away. 

The Mega Epic is a 220 mile mountain bike race that climbs over 34,000 feet in Breckenridge, Colorado. The Mega Epic is a spin off of the Breck Epic, a 6-day stage race, which I finished the year prior. The Mega Epic is the Breck Epic in one go. 

This year has thrown a lot at me. In addition to navigating unexpected personal challenges, I’ve been balancing a full time job and trying to grow Neve (ne-vay). I’m also getting married in September. I felt like I was missing a physical challenge, so in a total classic Nora way, I signed up for my most ambitious bike race to-date. The mileage and vertical were unfamiliar, the trails familiar. It felt like the right amount of ‘holy shit.’ A fine balance between complete unknowns and knowns. As it turns out, this wasn't my best move.

I signed up for the Mega Epic about 2 months before the start. In my twisted mind, the schedule worked out perfectly. I paired the race with Breck Bike Week, a 3 day bike focused event before the start of the Mega Epic where I could represent Neve. This meant the Mega was a business expense. No, I don’t have an accountant. 

I knew June was full of events for Neve, making my ride time really limited. The Mega Epic was August 13th. Being forced out of the saddle because I was running around to events was my first big lesson. I was actually feeling stronger on long back-to-back days because I was spending less time riding. Recovery, who knew!

I had less events in July. This would be the month where I would really ramp up the vertical. As the vertical increased, so did my stress levels. A day job, a start-up, planning a wedding, being a partner, a friend, a sister and a daughter, plus an ultra-endurance mountain bike race. When you try and do everything, you are good at nothing.

As I spent time on the bike, I felt guilty for not working on Neve. Working on Neve, I was stressed about not spending time on the bike. I found myself tangled in this ecosystem of privilege, guilt, luck, and self-pity. 

The moments of panic came in waves, telling myself I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t strong enough, or good enough. I was way over my skis. I was dealing with back pain that was so uncomfortable, I would get to the top of a climb and throw my back over a rock in search of relief. Just another reason the Mega Epic was way outside of reality. 

The time passed and the Mega Epic grew closer. I was too stressed to plan any logistics, so my partner did most of that. I was having trouble falling asleep and I was awake in the middle of the night. Each day went by slowly and quickly. 

About two and a half weeks before the Mega Epic, I started to taper. Then came Breck Bike Week, the three days before the Mega Epic. I wanted it to be Friday so badly, the day I knew the Mega would be over so I could move on with my life and stress about the next big thing. At the same time, I didn’t want the day to end because that meant the Mega Epic was sooner. I was emotional, on edge, and scared. I surrendered to the fact that I was doing this thing. 

The morning of August 13th came along and I was nauseous. I slipped into my chamois and jersey and silently stepped into the car. 

I was pacing 30 minutes before the start. I didn’t bother warming up, I figured a 220 mile mountain bike ride would be enough. 

There were 10 riders. Six women and four men. We started 5 minutes before Stage 4 of the Breck Epic. We would head off to Stage 1 while the Breck Epic would head off to Stage 4. 

I looked at my mom and my partner, Tom, as I rode by, longing to be anywhere else and pouting my lips, only half a joke. I kept pedaling past them and settled into a solid Z2 effort, an effort I wouldn’t leave for the next two days. I looked at my GPS and then up as three men pedaled away. Two of them I wouldn’t see again.

Stage 1 

Total: 35.7 miles | 5,700 feet

I started Stage 1 with a woman who I met in the Breck Epic the previous year and another guy named Chris, who was on a singlespeed. We rode together for a while until I dropped back to adjust my GPS.

Stage 1 was terrible. I did not enjoy it at all. So much road, such dry dirt. As the miles ticked away, I grew more and more upset to the point where the mantra rang in my head “there’s a 90% chance I don’t finish.” I was so focused on how miserable I was that I let the pressure of everything in my life take over. I wasn’t even through Stage 1 and I found myself fighting back tears. I biked by the finish of where Stage 4 ended and was so mad at myself that Stage 4, my least favorite stage, was seeing finishers before I finished Stage 1. 

I finally made it to the finish of Stage 1 and looked around for Tom, who came running over to me. As soon as I saw him, I burst into tears. I told him I couldn’t do it, it wasn’t the year. I wasn’t having fun, I was too slow, mentally I was toast. Everything just boiled over and I knew I just couldn’t do it. 

It felt almost comical, to finish one stage and to be so sure I was done. This also felt different. I can say I’m done but know inside I’m not. I did not have the inside feeling this time. 

We walked over to the car. My mom peered around the corner with a giant Cheez-It box on her head with two eye holes cut out. Her friend, Jacque, was also there. I couldn’t even laugh at my moms nonsense. I looked down, tears in my eyes, and sat. My mom and Jacque gave me space as I cried and told Tom all the reasons I couldn’t finish. I told him I just need this to be over so I can move on to the next thing in our lives, that I would feel so relieved with this behind me. 

My mom finally came over and I shared the same sentiment. We talked about the wedding things we could get done if I quit. On top of it all, I had gotten my period. Oh the joys of womanhood.

I asked how long I had been sitting there and realized an hour had gone by. I finished the first stage ahead of schedule, but now I was behind, which added more stress. My mom suddenly walked away and returned with a miniature dachshund that she plopped on my lap. Finally, I smiled. 

And that’s when the trickery began. My mom looked at me and Tom and asked, where can we meet her next? Tom looked at the map and said in ten miles. My mom turned to me and said, “Do you think you can ride ten more miles? We can check in there and see how you’re feeling.” I said yes. 

Just like that, I was back on my bike. 

Stage 2

Total: 78.2 miles | 12,265 feet

I pedaled away from my mom and Tom and began Stage 2, the Colorado Trail. I knew this had a hard climb but a fun descent. I pedaled the ten miles and descended a road section. Sure enough, there they were. My mom sitting and reading The New Yorker and Tom with his hands in the air. I was smiling when I got to them. Not because I was having fun, but because as promised, there they were. Waiting. 

I ate a bit and my mom asked again where they could meet me. Tom checked the map and said in 15 miles. I mentioned the hard climb in those 15 miles. My mom told me to pedal slowly. I told them I would cry if I finished this race and encouraged Tom to go on a ride while I did the next segment. 

I hopped back on my bike.

My legs were just ticking over, pedal stroke after pedal stroke. I had nowhere to be. I went up Muggins Gulch, which went by quicker than expected. My head was finally clear again, no negative thoughts of failure, just the fact that my mom and Tom would be waiting for me at the Dredge.

As I neared the top of the climb, there was Tom, standing with a bottle held out for me. He had climbed up the Colorado Trail so he could ride to the Dredge with me. I smiled because in my heart I had hoped he would do this. With me leading, we descended a really fast and fun section of trail. I not-so-secretly love being in front of Tom. He’s a huge reason why I’ve become such a strong descender and being in front lets me show him how much I’ve grown as a biker. I like to yell at him when he’s behind me, telling him to catch up.

We finally made it back to the Dredge and there was my mom, peering into the trail. She had called her friend Jacque, who is a registered dietitian, and asked her what to make me. I was already behind on calories. My mom pulled out a burrito with potatoes and beans and lemonade. I drank and ate a few bites and told my mom to go home for the night, knowing I didn’t have much sit time if I wanted to finish this stage in the light. 

I hopped back on my bike and finished the stage. 

Tom was standing there, at the end of the stage, waiting for me with a chair set up, my down jacket ready, and shoved food in my hand. There was another rider and his crew next to us, the owners of the miniature dachshund. 

My goal was up and over French Pass on day one, just under two and half stages. I looked at Tom and told him I was going to continue. He helped me put on leg warmers, some layers, and put my bike light on my helmet. Singlespeed Chris was also there. He started pedaling about 15 minutes before me. With the two other riders who were at the same spot off, I knew I needed to go. 

Stage 3

Total: 118.7 miles | 19,365 feet

Stage 3 was my first night of riding. I knew I didn’t have too much left to hit my goal and it was already dark when I started. I warmed up quickly thanks to some immediately steep singletrack and doubletrack. I did a bit of pushing my bike, knowing I still had well over 100 miles of riding until the finish. I made it safely down Little French and navigated over to what I knew would be the spookiest part of the night riding, French Pass. I ended up pushing most of French Pass. 

Nearing the steep hike-a-bike section, I saw bike lights ahead of me, which helped put my mind at ease. At the top, I threw a layer on and began the descent. I was looking around for eyes that I did not want to see when off the trail I saw a porcupine waddling around. I looked up and saw the moon and then saw two eyes staring at me. Thankfully, just deer. 

I continued to descend until I got to the river crossing where Singlespeed Chris was filtering water. The end of the trail was near. Tom was waiting, arms in the air yelling my name. It was a little after midnight. Tom had a recovery shake waiting and was making Annie’s Mac, which tasted like heaven. Salty, easy to go down, warm. Everything you want after biking 92 miles and climbing 14,000 feet. I ate what I could, crawled into the pop top, and slept like a rock. 

Tom set the alarm for 5 AM, allowing me to sleep longer than I had planned. I woke up, had some coffee and a warm recovery shake - all I could stomach - and set off. It was already dawn and I was mad at myself for sleeping longer than planned and taking a while to get going, but the sleep also felt great. 

I made quick work of Michigan Creek Road and Georgia Pass. I knew I had some garbage riding to get through before making it over to Side Door, a fun and flowy jump line. I was getting hungry and a bit cranky. I knew I had Great Flume, a terrible traverse trail, a steep road punch and a bit more traversing to get over to Side Door. 

My stomach growled but I pushed on. 

As I shot out to the road crossing, I spotted the Cheez-It box on the fence, which meant mom was near. I said I’d meet them at the trailhead and kept going. 

Tom, mom, and Jacque were waiting at the finish. Tom asked me if I wanted an egg sandwich or pancakes. I chose the egg sandwich. He made me two and I washed one down with Gatorade. Jacque offered to rub my back and I obviously accepted. I felt like a queen, the way everyone was just doing everything for me. I also knew I had my least favorite stage ahead and I was not eager to get out of my chair.

Stage 4

Total: 161 miles | 25,838 feet

I hate Stage 4. It was my hardest day the year prior in the stage race. While it does have a fun section of descent on the Colorado Trail, that’s about all it had going for it. I shoved the remainder of my egg sandwich in my jersey and set off, knowing Tom would be waiting for me at the bottom of Keystone Gulch Road and would pedal the climb with me. 

I took off and it was hot. I do not do well in the heat and there was some steep singletrack to navigate, including Vomit Hill, which is runnelly, loose and just silly. I was doing okay until I hit Vomit Hill. I started to decline. At some point, I forced myself to eat the rest of my egg sandwich. 

It was hot and I was uncomfortable. I texted Tom that I wanted a popsicle and lemonade, anything to cool me down. My mouth was so dry. 

I slowed down to the point of tears. I called Tom and said I couldn’t do this anymore, I’m done. I didn’t realize how tired I was. It felt like someone had draped a cloak of fatigue over me. 

I kept pedaling and hit the Aqueduct Trail. Tom had started to pedal towards me and said he had seen Singlespeed Chris a few minutes earlier. I whimpered, put my head down and pedaled. We made it to the car and Tom set up a chair in the shade, gave me lemonade and a melted popsicle. I sat in the chair, trying to cool down. This was my second breaking point and it was about to get worse.

I knew the road climb wasn’t steep, but I also knew the year prior, I declined on the road. I pedaled slowly and the fatigue once again washed over me. I stopped, leaned over my bike, and said if I get off one more time, I’m done. I kept telling Tom how behind schedule I was and he kept telling me the schedule didn’t matter. I continued until I felt like I was going to fall over. I got off my bike, drifted to the ground and laid down. 

It was an odd feeling. Fatigue washed over me with such force. Mentally, I was exhausted. I told Tom I was so tired, I just wanted to close my eyes and that I thought I was done. I didn’t feel badly about being done. It was just a fact.

Tom offered to go back and get the car so I could nap in it, but I told him no. I knew I was behind schedule and my mom was waiting on the other side. It was a moment I won’t soon forget. I laid there, feeling like an empty body at peace knowing I had found my finish. Tom emotionally told me how proud he was of me. I let go of what was next.

I felt like life was drifting out of me, too tired to move but also at peace. It was a strange juxtaposition of feelings. I thought about ultra-endurance athletes who are so tired they sleep anywhere. I never thought that that would be me, I've never been a napper in my life. But there I was, feeling lifeless and the most comfortable I could be lying in the dirt. I don’t think I fell asleep, but Tom told me I did. 

Moments later, I got up, gagged down a gel which would be my last, and kept pedaling.

I pushed what I would typically pedal. Every time I got off, so did Tom.

At the top of the climb, Tom and I split. He went back to his car and I continued.

I didn’t feel strong on the descent, more delirious than anything, but I knew my mom would be waiting. Sure enough, there was the stupid Cheez-It box that became her signature. The box meant mom was close. Jacque was there with her dog and my sister with Lil Boots. My mom pulled out a burrito and lemonade. I sat, but not for long because I wanted to finish the stage before dark. I was behind schedule. I also knew I had some hike-a-bike ahead with memories of Stage 4 the previous year haunting me. My mom told me I couldn’t go until I had a few more bites of food. She criticized me as I took pathetic nibbles. Then I was off. 

I was motivated to finish the stage before dark. I plugged in my crowd sourced playlist and pushed along. 

My mom, sister, Tom and Jacque waited for me at the end of the stage. Each time I finished a stage, I felt a sense of accomplishment, but at the end of this stage, I was disappointed. I knew I was hours behind my goal and Stage 5, the notorious Breck Epic hike-a-bike alpine stage, was ahead of me. Not only was this the stage that haunted all, but if I continued on, I would be doing it at night.

The options were laid out in front of me. I could start the stage now and finish around 1 AM, I could sleep and start around midnight, or I could just save it for tomorrow. Lucky me, a bunch of bad options. 

I said my legs felt good. My mom actually was the one to push me to do the stage. She said you’ll be riding in the dark no matter what. When asked what I wanted, I said I wanted to get it over with. The plan was to end the day at the Peaks Trail, stay at my mom’s, and do the last eight miles back to Breckenridge the following day, plus Stage 6.

I checked my phone, fluttered with messages of support, pulled on my leg sleeves, and asked Tom if he would ride with me until dark. I was scared. 

Stage 5

Total: 185.6 miles | 31,065 feet

Lights and layers on, burrito in my pack, and I was off again. I knew Singlespeed Chris was still in town and asked Tom if his dot moved. I was hoping he was foolish enough to do Wheeler at night too so I would have a buddy. Unfortunately, he had not moved and my heart sunk.

That was, until Tom realized I blew out my rear shock. This would be the end for most people, but Tom had an extra shock in the car. Tom had seen someone blow their shock in the first section of the Vapor 125 the year prior and ever since then, he carried a spare shock.

Knowing night was near, I was stressed. I wanted as much time riding with Tom as possible and I started to panic, pushing him to hurry. There we were, in a parking lot swapping out my rear shock.  

As quickly as he swapped my shock, I started to panic. I asked again about Chris, but no luck. 

Wheeler, a full stage, over 5,000 feet of hike-a-bike in the alpine at night and alone. I was already at 10,000 feet of climbing for the day. I felt like I was marching towards somewhere I really didn’t want to be. I dreaded the moment Tom had to turn around. 

At one point, Tom said he'd turn back in 13 more minutes. Those 13 minutes were slow and fast and when they ended, I broke down begging Tom not to leave. He didn’t have bike lights, he couldn’t come with me and I was in shambles. He looked at me, told me I could do it and that he would be waiting at the start of the Peaks Trail to take me to my moms. I made him promise multiple times that he would be there. He hugged me. I turned around and pedaled off. 

The beginning of Wheeler was the worst part. I was below tree line, which made everything extra dark. 

Wheeler is not a trail you pedal. You push your bike up loose, steep, rocky singletrack. I was moving slowly. I was alone. 

I kept looking back when finally, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Lights so bright I knew they were bike lights. Singlespeed Chris, it had to be. I heard him yell and I hollered back, but I couldn’t stop moving. He was a ways behind and I knew if I sat, I might not get up, so I pushed on until I hit the traverse section. I was hungry, so I forced myself to eat a bite of my burrito, which I chewed and spit out. I hoped this would give Chris enough time to catch up, but he didn’t and I couldn’t wait. I turned my phone off airplane mode to see if I had service and a barrage of messages came through, two of which were from Jacque and Tom telling me Chris was behind me. 

It felt like a blanket of relief washed over me. Suddenly, I wasn’t alone.

Next thing I knew, I was staring at a moose. The moose was snacking and I was scared. I called Tom, I had no mental ability to make decisions. I shined my light at the moose who looked at me, turned away and kept snacking. He started to walk off, so I continued down the trail. I knew I had some steep switch backs to push and then a descent before two more miles of pushing. 

I pretty much pushed those 2 miles to the final descent. I saw I had service, so I called Tom. I was weak and shaky and I wanted to hear Tom’s voice. I kept asking Tom how far back Chris was.

At one point, I heard my mom yelling to Tom in the background. They were at my mom’s house in Frisco. I couldn’t pedal, so I focused on counting. Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot. I focused on my footwork and Tom’s voice. I didn’t want to see eyes staring at me.

I finally made it to the final descent. In my delirious state, I could hardly balance. I threw a layer on, turned my lights on their full brightness, and tried to ride but could barely stay on through the loose dirt at the top. 

Not too long into the descent, I looked to the right of me and realized it was totally dark. My headlamp was dead. I looked at my handlebar lights. 57 minutes. I knew the descent would take me at most 40 minutes and that was being generous. I focused on what was directly ahead of me and kept biking. I knew I had a rocky descent and then a fast road. I knew Tom would be waiting. I was counting on Tom waiting. 

At one point, I was off route and called Tom in a panic. My handlebar lights at this point had switched to 50% brightness. He reassured me they rebuilt the trail and that’s why I appeared off. I told him my lights were dying and I was moving slowly. 

I continued down, focusing in front of me and watching the timer on my light count down to total darkness. I finally hit Miner’s Creek Road, thinking I was close, but that road is much longer than I remembered. I focused right in front of me. At one point, I saw the hind quarters of another moose. I just kept looking straight and thinking about being in Tom’s arms. 

The road felt like it took forever and I had to walk around two huge pools of water. I was not about to get wet in the dark in the middle of the night. 

Finally, I made it to Tom and my mom. They were waiting where the Peaks Trail started to take me to my mom’s for some sleep. Relief washed over me. I got off my bike and staggered. My mom rushed over and helped me to the car. They drove me home as I asked where Chris was. I was worried about him. 

Back at my mom’s, I couldn’t eat. I had a recovery shake, showered, and drifted into a deep sleep. 

I slept more than planned again. The alarm went off at 6 AM and I was starving. Upstairs, I had coffee and oatmeal my mom had made for me the night before. In my head, I had no reason to keep going. But again, my mom was already making plans with Tom. My thighs felt like someone had driven a car over them. 

Without the ability to make any decisions, I slipped into clean chamois and was dropped off at the Peaks Trail. I was cold. 

The Peaks Trail is punchy and I was expecting to be doing a lot of pushing. Once I started to pedal, the legs knew what to do and this time, I had motivation. 

My friends were doing Stage 6 and I wanted to cheer them on. My goal was to finish the Mega Epic before the Breck Epic, but I let go of that when it was 12 AM and I was alone in the alpine staring at a moose the night before.

The entire Peaks Trail, I thought about my friends. I imagined myself at the finish. My legs impressed me. They were pedaling over things I was sure I would walk. They knew what to do. 

My mom and Tom were waiting at the end of the Peaks Trail. They were thrilled, watching me eat a fig bar without being bullied into it.

Stage 6

Total: 215.8 miles | 34,805 feet

One more stage to go and Tom was doing it with me. We took off, descending Ski Hill Road. As we turned off the road, Jacque came ripping around the corner cheering. She turned around and passed us again. At the start of Stage 6, she was out of her car with the same sign she'd had for the past two days, cheering. 

Tom and I got a little mixed up at the start, but finally found our way. They had already pulled down the course directions for Stage 6. 

My mom made me salty, buttery noodles which tasted like heaven. They were in a plastic bag in my top tube bag. 

I kept asking Tom where Chris was. His dot finally updated and he was just ahead. We had some punchy climbing but at an intersection I turned around and there was Singlespeed Chris. Together, we continued on Stage 6, over and up Boreas Pass. 

Tom and Chris chatted as I went in and out of focus, looking and cheering for friends. Chris stopped at the top of Boreas Pass, but I just kept going. I let Tom slip ahead of me for the Gold Dust descent. After that, we had to go back up and over Boreas Pass, a long but doable climb. I kept turning back, searching for Chris and finally, there he was. I checked my phone and sure enough, messages from friends. I ate more buttery noodles. Heaven. 

I told Tom to go pedal with Chris for a little and see if he wanted me to wait. Tom went back and pedaled with Chris for about 15 minutes. I kept ticking over the legs, passing a few Stage 6 riders as I went. 

Tom finally pedaled back up to me. I asked Tom if Chris wanted me to wait, but Tom told me Chris said, “Tell Nora I’ll see her at the finish. She’s a bad ass.” With that, I kept going. 

At the summit of Boreas Pass, I saw a friend which brought me so much joy. Tom later told me he didn’t know how, but I was out of the saddle when I saw her. I gave her a huge hug and together we started the final descent. When we hit the singletrack, she fell behind and I kept going. There was no stopping this train, I was finish line bound. 

Down, down, down, a little up, and a bit of shenanigans at the bottom. I thought I went the wrong way but could hear the finish line. I put my foot down, looked around, and saw two other racers ahead of me, so I kept going. I could hear the announcer saying my name.

Then I heard it. My mom shrieked “GO NORA GO!” I was really going to do it.

At the bridge before the finish line, I saw my friends. Waiting. Cheering. 

I turned, crossed the bridge, entered the finish coral and crossed the finish line.

Friends were waiting, Mega Epic riders who had dropped and finished cheered, photographers took pictures. The announcer was yelling.

I saw Tom, got off my bike and went over to him. In his arms, I cried. People circled us, photographers took photos. It was a magical momentSinglespeed Chris crossed the finish line as a photographer was taking a photo of me. I gave him a huge hug and told him how seeing his light on Wheeler changed everything for me. 

The race director congratulated me. I chatted with a female competitor, sharing stories. I technically won the Mega Epic for women.

Finally, I sat alone on the curb. I looked around at friends and family. A moment alone, just sitting. Nowhere to be, no more pedaling.

Me and my body. For once, I was proud of myself.