Is this Epic yet?
Epic, as an adjective, is defined as “heroic or grand in scale or character”.
Bikepacking races are often described as Epic. Whether it’s in the race title itself, or within the description of the race to hype up potential participants. This word is tossed around in the sport so much that a seasoned racer, Jesse Carlsson, joked that he would utilize the term “Eric”, as a tongue-in-cheek reference to anything that would otherwise be described as “Epic”. I liked that, let’s not take this too seriously.
When you learn about the concept, it does sound pretty epic though. The races are self-supported, so you have to do logistical planning in order to know the availability of food and water sources on the route. There are no checkpoints or aid stations along the way to help you.
They’re often ultra-endurance races, which means the race route itself may end up crossing a state or two, and in some cases, even a country.
Before I embarked on my own bikepacking race, I reflected on the type of character traits I saw in athletes that completed such challenges: resilient, tough, badass, determined.
I visualized what it would feel like to become a finisher of one of these challenges of human endurance. How would my mindset be challenged and changed? What type of confidence would I gain? Would I be satisfied after just completing one?
Naturally, I also wondered what it would feel like during the race. Is the amount of training I completed going to be able to sustain me over countless hours of turning the pedals, day after day? How do you keep your mind from going numb?
I had lots of questions. After completing four of these events, I now have some answers for myself… but the questions keep coming.
One of these questions that keeps bouncing around in my mind is the concept of: is this epic yet? Because I can assure you, at no point in any of these races have I felt heroic or grand in character.
In Oregon, I found myself on a gravel road in the dark of night, zig-zagging through a squad of dancing penguins. I was over 24 hours in to the race, a couple hours before this I tried to sleep at a rest stop, but the buzzing of flies kept me awake. This wasn’t exactly epic, this was my sleep deprived version of Happy Feet.
In British Columbia, I was riding a single track mountain bike path that was lit only by my headlight. I turned a corner and was greeted by two young mountain lions off to my right. My legs turned to jello, and I did everything I could to keep spinning onward, away from the big cats. Was this epic? Sure, it was epically terrifying.
In Utah, I chose the high-caffeine coffee blend from a Maverick gas station, hoping it would keep me awake long enough to reach the finish. The taste was so bitter that I pictured myself sipping the hot, liquid form of pure caffeine. I finished the coffee(?) just as the sun was coming up, and then promptly had to find the closest road side shrubbery as my stomach did a somersault. This definitely wasn’t epic. This was me emergency pooping on the side of a busy road, this was embarrassing.
As I reflect on my races and as I look forward to more, I’m less concerned about how grand in scale they may be, and I’m more excited about the stories and experiences that will follow. They may not be epic, and they also don’t need to be. However, they will certainly provide a little bit of entertainment.
Originally published at experiencebybike.com on March 16, 2021.
