If you want to understand the Race Across America, basically stop thinking about the Tour de France. Forget the champagne on the Champs-Élysées. Forget the team buses with memory foam mattresses and the nightly massages. RAAM is something else entirely. It’s a 3,000-mile sprint from the Pacific to the Atlantic where the clock never stops, and if you sleep more than 90 minutes a day, you’ve probably already lost.
It's brutal. Honestly, it's kinda hard to wrap your head around the sheer volume of suffering involved in pedaling across 12 states, climbing 175,000 feet, and dealing with heat that melts asphalt in the Mojave Desert.
Since its inception in 1982—back when it was called the Great American Horse Race and featured only four brave (or crazy) pioneers—this event has become the ultimate benchmark for human endurance. John Howard, Lon Haldeman, Michael Shermer, and John Marino were the original four. Haldeman won that year, crossing the finish line in 9 days, 20 hours, and 2 minutes. People thought that was the limit. We were wrong.
What makes the Race Across America so different?
The biggest thing you’ve gotta realize is that RAAM is a non-stop time trial. In the Tour de France, riders race in stages. They finish for the day, eat a huge dinner, sleep in a hotel, and start again tomorrow.
RAAM doesn’t have stages.
Once the gun goes off in Oceanside, California, the clock keeps ticking until you reach the finish line in Annapolis, Maryland. This means every minute you spend eating, sleeping, or changing a flat tire is a minute your competitors are gaining on you. It’s a psychological meat grinder. Solo riders usually finish in under 12 days, which requires them to maintain an average speed of about 10-15 mph including all stops. To do that, the top guys are sleeping maybe 1 to 2 hours in a 24-hour period.
Christoph Strasser, the Austrian legend who holds the record, finished the race in 7 days, 15 hours, and 56 minutes in 2014. Think about that for a second. He averaged 16.42 mph across the entire continent. That isn't just "fast for a long ride." That's a pace most hobbyist cyclists struggle to maintain for a three-hour Sunday spin. He did it for a week straight.
📖 Related: Why Netball Girls Sri Lanka Are Quietly Dominating Asian Sports
The physical toll is disgusting. You've got "Shermer’s Neck," a condition named after Michael Shermer where the neck muscles simply fail from holding up the weight of the helmet for too long. Riders have to rig up bungee cords from their jerseys to their helmets just to keep their heads up so they can see the road. Then there’s the nerve damage in the hands (cyclist’s palsy) and the sheer calorie deficit. You’re burning 10,000 to 12,000 calories a day. You can't chew that much food, so most of it is liquid—high-calorie shakes pumped into the body while pedaling.
The logistics of a cross-country sprint
You can't do this alone. Even though it's called "solo" racing, every rider has a support crew in a follow vehicle. This is usually a van packed with a driver, a navigator, a mechanic, and someone who acts as a makeshift nurse.
They are the unsung heroes.
The crew handles everything:
- Handing out "bottle hand-offs" through the window at 20 mph.
- Navigating the complex turns across the Midwest.
- Keeping the rider awake when they start hallucinating.
- Monitoring core body temperature in 110-degree Kansas heat.
The hallucinations are real, by the way. Riders frequently report seeing giants in the cornfields of Indiana or thinking the white lines on the road are snakes. It’s sleep deprivation mixed with extreme physical exertion. It’s a legal trip.
Breaking down the geography
The route usually starts in Oceanside, California. Immediately, you’re hit with the Coast Range and then the desert. The heat in the first 48 hours is often the deciding factor. If you cook your engine in the Mojave, you're done before you even hit Arizona.
👉 See also: Why Cumberland Valley Boys Basketball Dominates the Mid-Penn (and What’s Next)
Then comes the climb.
The Rockies are actually less of a problem than the Appalachians. Sure, the Rockies are higher, but the grades are consistent. You find a rhythm. The Appalachians, specifically through West Virginia and Pennsylvania, are "punchey." They are short, steep, and relentless. By the time riders hit these hills, they’ve been on the bike for six days. Their knees are screaming. Their sit-bones are shredded. This is where the race is won or lost.
Why the Race Across America is safer than you think (mostly)
You’d think a race like this would have a massive casualty list. Surprisingly, the safety record is quite high because of the strict rules. Solo riders must have a follow vehicle directly behind them during night hours. This vehicle acts as a shield, using its lights to illuminate the road and its bulk to prevent cars from buzzing the cyclist.
However, the "Trans Am Bike Race" is a different beast often confused with RAAM. Trans Am is self-supported. No vans. No crews. You sleep in gas stations or ditches. RAAM is the supported version, which allows for much higher speeds and a slightly higher safety margin, though the risks of road fatigue are still massive.
The 2026 outlook: What’s changing?
As we move into 2026, the technology is getting wild. We aren’t just talking about lighter carbon frames. We’re talking about real-time biometric monitoring. Crews now use wearable tech to monitor the rider’s glucose levels, heart rate variability (HRV), and skin temperature in real-time, beaming the data to a tablet in the follow van.
This allows the crew chief to say, "Hey, your core temp is hitting 102, drink the ice slurry NOW," before the rider even feels the overheat coming.
✨ Don't miss: What Channel is Champions League on: Where to Watch Every Game in 2026
Also, the bikes. The shift toward "all-road" geometry has made a huge difference. In the 90s, guys were riding stiff, twitchy road bikes that vibrated your teeth out. Modern RAAM bikes often feature wider tires (28mm or 32mm) and built-in vibration damping. It saves the body. It keeps the rider in the saddle longer.
The cost of entry: It’s not just sweat
Let’s be real—this is an expensive hobby. To do RAAM properly, you’re looking at a $20,000 to $50,000 investment.
- Entry fees are thousands of dollars.
- Fuel for two support vehicles across 3,000 miles.
- Flights for a crew of 6-8 people.
- Food, supplies, and bike parts.
Most riders rely on local sponsors or massive crowdfunding efforts. It’s a logistical nightmare that starts a year before the race even begins. You have to qualify first, too. You can’t just sign up. You have to prove you can handle it by finishing a qualifying event like the Silver State 508 or the Texas 24-hour race within a specific time limit.
What most people get wrong about the "Winner"
In the cycling world, there’s a debate about what constitutes a "win." If you finish RAAM, you get a "finisher" buckle. For many, that’s the Super Bowl. Only about 50% of solo starters actually finish the race. The "DNF" (Did Not Finish) rate is incredibly high, usually due to respiratory issues, saddle sores that become infected, or simply mental collapse.
Seana Hogan is a name you should know. She won the women’s solo division six times and held the record for years. Her 1995 time of 9 days, 4 hours, and 42 minutes is still legendary. It proves that this isn't just a sport of raw muscle; it's a sport of efficiency and mental toughness, areas where women frequently outperform men in ultra-distance events.
Actionable insights: How to start your ultra-cycling journey
If reading this makes you want to hop on a bike (or never look at one again), here is how you actually get into the world of ultra-distance racing without ending up in a ditch in Kansas.
- Focus on "Time in Saddle," not mileage. Your body needs to learn how to sit on a bike for 12 hours straight. The speed doesn't matter initially. The friction points do. Find a saddle that works for you.
- Master the "Rolling Buffet." You need to learn how to eat 300-500 calories an hour while moving. If you wait until you're hungry, you've already lost the race.
- Join a 12-hour or 24-hour event. Don't jump into a cross-country trek. Try a local 24-hour time trial. It will teach you everything you need to know about your gear and your gut.
- Fix your neck. Start doing isometric neck exercises. Most cyclists have weak upper traps and stabilizers. In RAAM, this is the first thing that breaks.
- Study the route. Use tools like RideWithGPS to analyze the elevation profiles of the RAAM route. Even if you aren't racing it this year, understanding the transitions between the desert, the mountains, and the plains is fascinating from a tactical perspective.
The Race Across America is a weird, beautiful, and terrifying slice of Americana. It takes the "road trip" concept and turns it into a test of the human spirit. It’s not about the bike. It’s about what happens to a human being when you strip away sleep, comfort, and ego in the middle of a Kansas cornfield at 3:00 AM.
That's where the real race happens.