Cutting right to the chase, let’s get down to why it has taken so long for me to post a recap of RAAM.  It’s all about the  psycho of RAAM:  psycho-logical, psycho-nonlogical, psycho-tropical, and of course, just plain psycho.

The decision to stand on that start line was not an easy one.  Of course I had completed some tough rides, and some tough races.  I had a few records and respectable finishes, but the thought of RAAM took a few years to work around.  Once I had decided to race, the actual entry into the race was made easy with the very generous support of sister and brother-in-law, Larina and Bob Davis who covered my entry fee.  Yet it was still not an “easy” thing to believe in.

Once I was committed to the race I began the training process.  This entailed ramping up my weekly mileage in huge increments.  I was woefully under-trained, in my opinion, due entirely to time constraints. I was still a husband, father and employee – I wasn’t getting paid to ride, so time was at a premium.  But I did need to train and find a way to believe that 300 miles a day was not a problem.

Enter the beginnings of the psychology of long distance cycling.  See, the thing is, as you start to enjoy the riding more, there are paradoxically more situations that you enjoy less:  your ass hurts more, your stomach fights back more often, the EXPENSE of your equipment wearing out more often bothers you, the boredom of the scenery grinds at you, the hours you spend away from your family nag at you.  Well, I was entered into RAAM, so the solution was to sublimate these things and put on my happy race face.  I got really adept at this in about Feb., when the alarm would go off at 3:00 am and I was looking forward to another two hour pre-work workout in the sub-zero darkness of the Tri-Cities winter.  I got so good at putting anything but RAAM out of my mind while I was riding that I was able to learn a new trick: enjoy life to the fullest while riding.  Which is of course the whole point of RAAM:  what good are you on the face of the planet, breathing everyone else’s air if you aren’t trying your hardest to succeed at your calling?

Hmmm, what does this have to do with not posting a post-RAAM wrap-up?  Well, it’s like this:  As the training load increased, and the mileages increased, it took more and more effort to create that point in my day where I was “happy”.  Probably a result of living under the influence of adrenaline and endorphins – daily life was still there, but only running in the background.  I derived my pleasure and purpose only from getting stronger and faster on the bike.  Not that nothing else was worth any effort, just that when I had given 100% to the day’s riding, I had taken a closer step to success.  So, now that I am home and working and fathering and husbanding again it has been tough to re-enter real life.  Without the huge bursts of adrenalin and excitment that cycling brings, working a whole 8 hours in one day is hard!  I have been unable to get up and ride in the mornings – just too damn sleepy.  I had thought of racing in Oregon this weekend, but every time I think of how hard it has been to relearn how to enjoy normal life I lose interest.   So it has been tough to re-live RAAM without getting sucked into things that will make life hard to bear.

So, anyways, here’s how I remember RAAM:

Day One.

After the long drive down from WA , Oceanside was an interesting resting point.  Crew Chief Alison took over my life and got me and my crew organized and checked in, through inspections and meetings in fine form.  The myriad details of getting seven crew and one racer across a continent all fell in place fairly well.  Alison’s people skills proved invaluable throughout the entire race, and her ability to get everyone focused and working on their jobs was a welcome relief for me.  I was able to start the mental process of realization:  I really was going to RACE across a continent, and felt I would do well.

I took a few rides in the days before the race, loosened up the legs, and made sure to try and eat well.  Remember this. 

The morning of the race start found me pretty well rested, and actually, sort of non-excited.  I remember standing on the start line, totally happy – but sort of non-plussed.  I suppose this was my brain’s way of sublimating the enormity of what we were about to attempt.  And it didn’t take long at all for this to become reality.   After we cleared the fogbank of Oceanside and it started to heat up I became aware that my GI tract was going to be an issue.  Seems like that attention to healthy eating had led to one too many salads for dinner. Probably Mexican lettuces.   It was many long miles later that the last of the lettuce left my system. 

But anyways the first afternoon went by just fine.  I remembered some of the route from the time I had spent crewing Ronin Keene (probably not his real name) two years earlier on Race Across the West.  I was really looking forward to the descent down the glass elevator: 8 miles of better than 12%, and it didn’t disappoint as I passed two other racers, one crew vehicle,one officials’ vehicle, and finally my own support vehicle.  Thank you Bianchi for building an amazing bike!

Descending the Glass Elevator

Once out on the desert floor I settled down and found my happy spot – about 85% effort in 53×19 -and just sort of waited for the race to take over my life.  I remember darkness falling as we slid around the south end of the Salton Sea – and that is the last point in the race that I can honestly say I can put time and place into proper order.

  Did I cross that river before or after I climbed that mountain?  How many days out was I when I was climbing the divide?  Was that before or after I saw my sister Larina and Mom?  When did I start wearing that UW Huskies jersey when the back part of my brain knew my crew chief was a Cougar?

So, anyways, anyone who was there will have to excuse any discrepancies in my timeline.  The rest of the first night went by pretty well, though we missed the turn to Arizona and had to backtrack a few miles.  It’s interesting to note everyone’s reaction to these little mistakes.  For the rider there is no point in getting upset – I mean these folks have all given a huge amount of their time to help you out, so no point in telling them anything obvious.  Especially when the odometer in the Primary vehicle is off by so many miles.  And you can’t get upset at someone who has willingly said they will stare at this for 10 days!

And, speaking of mistakes, here’s a couple good ones I made:

While pondering everything that could go wrong during RAAM, I decided that having a break every 6 hours would help me with the possible tedium of riding non-stop for 10 days.  The plan was to have a break, eat something other than PBJ’s and recollect my courage.  Turns out it was a great way for me to waste time every 6 hours.

Another big one: should have done a motorhome and two more crew members.  We spent a fair amount of time searching for or driving to and from hotels, and having a motor home trailing along would have worked out a lot better.

Not training for sleep deprivation was probably my biggest error.  I had assumed it would just be a matter of muscling through the drowsy spells.  But until you have actually experienced the joys of sleep deprivation, you really don’t have a clue what you are up against.

So, anyways, I’m sure there are some things my crew feels they made mistakes on, yet in the end it is the rider who makes the REAL errors!

Speaking of sleeping – the first night I decided to lay down for a quick catnap.  This proved to be a huge error – when I woke up I suddenly couldn’t remember why RAAM was a good idea.  And I had to re-live the entire three year decision process in about three minutes in order to get back on the bike.  I decided that sleeping really wasn’t that good of an idea after all, and decided not to do it anymore.  Brilliant.

Day two:  more coming soon.  or later.

From a purely physical point of view, day two was exactly what I thought it would be – a geometric progression of misery.  I picked up a ripping headache, could no longer stomach any food, and was starting to feel fatigued.  Little twinges of pain  in the knees and ankles kept me wondering if I was going to destroy some critical rotational joint, but thankfully I was avoiding any saddle sores. 

I was really looking forward to Congress, AZ – mostly because it was the jumping off point for the first real climbing that we would be doing.  The Yarnell Grade takes you up off the desert floor fairly sternly, and I remember hoping I would make Congress before it got too hot.  Not to be, though, and I availed myself of the swimming pool they had set up at the time station.

On the road to Congress

After what was probably far too long a break we headed out into the heat

Temp in Congress

Well, we began our climb and settled down to enjoy the next few hours that would take us up to the high desert.  After climbing for a while I was joined by Terry Lansdell who was out riding the Race Across the West course on a fixed gear bike. He asked if I wanted a little company or not, and mentioned that he had hung around Congress a little longer than he wanted in order to give me time to get up the hill.  I quickly realized he was doing me a bunch of favors – on multiple levels:  didn’t want to pass a guy on the climb, didn’t want to outclimb a guy with his fixie, and was probably climbing slower than what was comfortable for him.  On a fixie you need to keep the cadence in a comfortable range – and I’m sure we were slower than what he was capable of.

Climbing Yarnell with Congess far below

 We climbed for a while and I mentioned I thought it was awesome that he was doing all this on a fixed gear bike.  Well, he proceeded to share a wealth on information with me.  This was the fourth or fifith time he had been out on RAAM, though RAW and a fixie were both firsts for him.  He assured me that once my stomach settled down I would have no more problems with it (and mentioned that any sugar at all is probably what had shut it down out in the heat), gave me a couple pointers on climbing in general, and also assured me that RAAM was no problem and that I would finish easily.  We parted company after a while, with Terry dropping back – again, I’m sure he was just being polite.  My crew pulled up and asked what we had talked about, and I told them a bit about it.  Well, it really stuck with me, all that had gone on in those few minutes – got a little choked up to be honest.

After Yarnell is a much sterner climb up to Prescott.  I was pretty well amped up after the Yarnell climb, and it went pretty well.  I think it was somewhere on this climb that I began to realize something fairly awesome:  I didn’t feel as bad as I had feared.  I was NOT slowly but surely getting more fatigued, instead I was starting to feel …. OK.  The headache was gone with no aspirin, my legs weren’t tight and sore, and there was a fairly deep store of energy available overall.  So, while the climb was slow, I was feeling pretty good about it.  I remember commenting to my crew how tough a climb like this could be – the landscape was following the grade of the climb – so every time you looked up you were still only a few hundred feet above the surrounding countryside.  The reality was that if you had been able to see the base of the climb, thousands of feet had rolled under the tires.  So, under some circumstances, it would have been discouraging to climb for so long and not get any spectacular views.  But, I was starting to feel better, maybe I was even starting to feel good.

Prescott had a little challenge as you initially descend long enough to get comfy going downhill, then have a few brisk rollers to conquer.  Then it’s out into the floor of the high desert with Mingus Mtn. in the backdrop.

Prescott, soupandsalad, Mingus Mtn. for a backdrop

We changed crews here in Prescott, and I headed up the slope of the Mtn.  I was now settled pretty well into what power level I could maintain, so it was only a matter of feeding and watering to keep me moving.  I was looking forward to the next couple days, there were a lot of great sights to see.  I was especially looking forward to the descent off Mingus – and it wasn’t long before we were rolling downhill.  I guess Sedona is the name of the town that’s perched on the side of the mountain, and it was a neat little town in the darkness.  It was still early enough in the evening that people were out and about, walking to restaraunts, or sitting on patios.

Well, anyways we’re well into day three – and things start getting interesting:  a forced sleep break that I belligerently ignored by staring at a hotel ceiling, a ride into a lightning show, and my blue-haired crew member non-challantly reminding me one of the most important parts of my plan.  But I should go ride for a while.  Maybe Pullman to find a jersey that I can wear out in the open over here in eastern WA.

Probably will make new posts next time so you don’t have to scroll so far for every update.

Know you all have been waiting paitently for some RAAM follow-ups, but re-entering normal life has proven to be a bit tougher than I imagined.  Like RAAM itself, what you think and plan for are not necesarily reality.  Physically I am tired, but not exhausted.  Yet, every night I set my alarm to get up and go ride in the best part of the year: warm nights, no tackweeds, very little wind – just the feel of the bike surging down the tarmac.  And, every morning, I shut off the alarm and go back to sleep.  I suppose this is a cumulative effect of all the sleep deprivation.  I had initially thought that I would be worn out when I got home, then gradually regain my strength and get back to a good base weekly mileage.  Instead, I seem to be getting more tired with every passing day!  Well, hopefully this will clear out in a week or two, as I would hate to waste the best part of the summer only to end up reinvigorated when the snow starts to fly.

Add to that the fact that our internet (modem, actually) failed right when we got home, and then a computer failure – well, anyways that’s why there haven’t been any RAAM follow-ups.  So, will work on them soon.  Promise.

sorry for the delays with any more photos, and you’ll have to be patient with my responses to your comments and e-mails, but I am in Boston right now and unable to access my e-mail.

I am having a great visit/recuperation time with my sister and her two boys and husband – Tony Massorotti.  The boys keep us busy but I have managed to start in with some riding again – I took a nice 35 mile tour of the area yesterday morning, and will head west for a while today to see what other sights there are around here.  I almost managed a century ride a few days ago down in Annapolis – but the fatigue level is pretty high, so I am content just to be out enjoying the feel of riding again.

So here’s a couple of things that stick out vividly in head about Race Across America, in no particular order.  Mostly because time and place cease to have any meaning – I think the brain shuts off that function to help conserve energy.

Plunging down over the top of the glass elevator in CA.  This is a 12 mile plummet from a mile up to a few hundred below.  I couldn’t help but be confused by the support vans and officials vehicles that insisted on passing me just before the crest of the summit.  But it was well worth the fun about halfway down.  I passed up three other riders, one of their support vehicles, then had to momentarily touch the brakes as I decided what to do about the official who was ambling down the hill.  We hit a spot with a slight decrease in the grade and he slowed up just enough for me to pedal my way past him.  The grade and curves increased again at this point, and now I could see my own support vehicle.  I flopped down on the aerobars and slid up next to them – basically eye to eye with my driver.  The look on his face was priceless, as they had no idea is was passing them.

After climbing over Mingus Mtn. the route drops down through a little town called Jerome.  The sights and sounds of this little town were unique.  It is an artsy little town with lots of little store fronts and restaraunts, but the whole town is built on the side of the mountain, with hundreds of vertical feet seperating the top of the town from the bottom.  I later learned that Dad’s Garmin unit had tried to commit suicide and take half my crew with it by requesting a right turn where there was no road!

Late one night heading into Indianna.  The chip-sealed, frost heaved, pot-holed road had changed to a new asphalt road, and I was finally comfortable again after hours of misery.  I had been keeping up with a women’s team, but was going to have to stop and pee pretty quick.  This year the rules were changed to require teams to do stationary exchanges at night.  Thus, a solo rider can do well against a team – the solo rider doesn’t have to stop every ten or twenty minutes to change riders.  Anyways, after my pee break I decided to give chase.  This was pretty much a fruitless effort, as I was heading for a sleep break at the next time station, but I could see the rider in the wash of her support van’s lights, and I was feeling pretty good.  I slowly added a few watts at a time until I judged I was gaining on her.  After about ten minutes we were definetely ready to attempt a pass.  I was pretty well all-out at this point, but had decided a few miles back that after all the hard work the crew had done for me over the last few days, one little pass in the middle of the night might be fun for them.  I grabbed one more gear, laid into the power and rolled past the support van in front of me.  I’m pretty sure the rider wasn’t amused by my stunt – she never even said “hello” or “where’re ya from, stranger”.  She re-passed me in pretty short order, which was fine – the hotel wasn’t to0 far away and I was looking forward to a little break anyways.

Kansas is a great memory in general.  I had feared Kansas above all else on RAAM, I was afraid the headwinds would sap my spirit and stop me in my tracks.  The strong north winds on the first day had just enough west in them to keep me rolling, but the second day was a true gift: tailwinds and moderate temperatures.  I suppose I should have tried to temper my enthusiasm, but as Kansas rolled under my wheels I found myself feeling better and better.  This would soon be changed by the rolling hills of Missouri, but I really felt like superman at the time.

One more for today, and that is a little road called St. Mary’s Road.  After paralleling the interstate for quite a while we were treated to a quick descent into a little German town, then climbed back out onto the farmlands.  The road zigged and zagged for many, many miles – and it suddenly dawned on me that the road was following section lines.  Probably every turn was where a drive or side road would lead to a homestead, but what struck me was that the sections were small:  maybe I am making this up in my head, but it seemed to me that the road was so old that it was laid out on section lines that a horse could handle.  And then from around the corner appeared the church of St. Mary’s, then the road continued and we dropped down into another little German town.  It struck me then how that particular road must have held the two towns together, with the church at the center of it.  How odd to have had to excess brain function to ponder something as extraneous as the origin of a road.

The crew is slowly disbanding – Jim Reynolds left us three days ago aboard a bus, Jim Haltom bought the secondary van and is on his way back to CA, Crew Chief Alison had work in Pennsylvania last night, so only Dad and Brandon remain.  Sammi, Mom, Bob and Larina, as well as Natalie all came out here to Annapolis, and they too are on their respective journeys home.  Brandon, Dad and I will drive to Boston tomorrow to visit with Natalie and Tony and the boys, then B and I start our westward journey.  Been thinking about riding the divide east to west just for a diversion.

Of course a few more words about RAAM.  RAAM was never so much about the finish line as it was about the start line:  what belief in yourself does it require to stand on a start line in Oceanside and look east?  What training, what sacrifices, what help from others along the way will it take to believe you can stand there on THAT particular start line?  As a rookie rider with a rookie crew I knew our chances of success were slim – but in the end it wasn’t anything more complex than utter fatique coupled with sleep deprivation that stopped me.  All other “forseen” problems were conquered either by myself or by my crew.  So I cannot feel anything but happy to have made 2500 miles in one sitting.

Ok, enough of the waxing poetic.  Here’s the part you really want to hear:

Right out of the chute in CA I developed a nagging and time-consuming case of intestinal distress, followed closely by a heat-related stomach revolt.  Seems I could swallow nothing – even water was a chore to get down.  The poor day shift was stuck with having to watch me race full-tilt all day while my caloric consumption dwindled, then the night shift had the unenviable task of having to catch me back up once the coolness of the evening allowed my stomach to try and do some work.  Also out in the desert I was treated to a wonderful case of a three day bloody nose.  I think the searing heat of the desert caused the capillaries to seep blood, which became huge stalactites in my nose.  Wonderful.

The sleep deprivation first attacked my for real after descending off the divide.  I was in need of a quick nap to clear the cobwebs, so I laid down in the back of the van.  Unfortunately my knee got twisted up whilst I slept, and I was awakened by the pain.  Well, I don’t know too much about metaphysical realities and what not, but I’m pretty sure that parts of me were still off doing what they needed to do while my body rested, but the body was jerked awake prematurely.  This was the only time I was actually scared during RAAM – I was partly aware of what was going on, but mostly I was sure I had gone insane.  I kept asking what we were doing, and the crew calmly responded that we were heading for a hotel to warm up my knees in a hot shower and get some sleep.  Unfortunately what I was really asking was “what planet is this?  Who am I?  What is my quest?  What is your favorite color?”  What finally started to bring some sanity back to me was looking at the inside of my van that I had worked so hard on with all its shelves and drawers, etc.  Uncle Milt finally saved the day by telling me I was going to be all right as soon as I got some sleep.

I don’t think I ever got my sleep patterns merged back properly for the rest of the race – sometimes my mind would sleep, sometimes my spirit would sleep, and sometime my body would sleep, but never did all three rest at the same time.

The next really fun part came after slamming headfirst into Missouri:  Believe me, after the tailwinds in Kansas (Kansas had been my biggest fear, for I am not the greatest rider when it comes to headwinds) Missouri was a severe shock, with it’s never ending rollers.  No sense of rythm or pace, no way to spin out some miles without constantly changing power levels to accomadate the terrain.  Anyways,  what happened was a stupid mistake on my part:  I reached for a handoff from the van, but drifted too far over and hit the rumble strip..  It took my fatigued system a split-second too long to correct the mistake and I lost control of the bike.  I plunged off the shoulder down into the ditch.  I think I was very lucky:  the front wheel dropped out from under me so fast that I had no time to do anything but relax and await the inevitable, and I tumbled over and landed flat on my back.  I laid there for a few seconds to decided if I was ok, then slowly got up and sat on the shoulder.  We took inventory, and in the light of the van headlights did a thorough inspection of my helmet.  No cracks or scratches, so I had avoided hitting my head on the way over.  Determined not to let the incident reflect poorly on my crew, I simply got back on the bike, recollected my wits as I rode into the night, and didn’t look back.  I didn’t tell anyone later that I was coughing blood for about 10 hours after the crash.  Probably bruised my lung from the impact.  No worries.

There really aint that much more gore to tell of.  Saddle sores were never a big issue, my hands and feet held up well, though the palms of my hands developed some blisters, and my toes are still a tad numb.

Next post: the amazing things my crew and I saw and achieved in 2500 miles.

Well, sorry to disappoint – but i ran off the end of my strength somewhere out in ohio.  After overcoming 20 reasons a day for not continuing on what i finally ran into was a complete exhaustion.  It was taking me longer and longer sleep breaks to stay functional and they were providing me less and less forward progress before I needed another break.

I am absolutely thrilled with how far we got – like I said, there were 20 times a day that my crew and I went so far beyond my expectations and limitations that I can’t feel anything but happy with what we achieved.  And quite honestly, they aint kidding when they say there’s more climbing in the last 500 miles – hundreds of miles of rolling hills that never end.  Like Missouri reincarnated, only taller.

Thank you to everyone who helped make this endeavour possible – and to everyone who came out on course to cheer me on.

Now for the long drive home.  Anyone want a Dodge Caravan, slightly modified?

Taking a short break in Effingham to change some clothing and eat something other than on-bike food.  It was warm and muggy today,  but the winds were light and thankfully the rollers of Missouri are behind us.

Had a really tough night last night which culminated with yet another hotel run and an unbelievably long sleep break.  Hopefully tonight I can push through to the next time station were we already have a hotel waiting, rather than have an emergency search and sleep party again.

Overall I think the sleep timing issues are the biggest problem we have been facing.  We are running close to the wire, but hopefully we can build up a few hour buffer every day to the finish.

Random Photos posted by Craig (1885)

RAAM Updates

Last time check at 06/19/2010 9:33 Mile 2499.86 – 9 d 18 h 1 m – 10.68 MPH Mile 2441.80 – 9 d 7 h 28 m – 10.93 MPH Mile 2391.60 – 9 d 2 h 25 m – 10.95 MPH Mile 2341.99 – 8 d 23 h 17 m – 10.88 MPH Mile 2278.79 – 8 d 17 h 1 m – 10.9 MPH Mile 2211.46 – 8 d 8 h 28 m – 11.03 MPH Mile 2138.81 – 8 d 3 h 35 m – 10.94 MPH Mile 2089.56 – 8 d 0 h 20 m – 10.86 MPH Mile 2043.54 – 7 d 20 h 13 m – 10.86 MPH Mississippi River = Mile 2043.54 Started in Oceanside, CA 06/09/10 at 15:32 EASTERN TIME Velocità di Dio!

I had the pleasure of speaking with Brandon this morning (06/17/10). It was so good to hear from him. He said his Dad was having trouble with sleep deprivation.
Brandon sounded quite positive, which is good. (What a nice Young Man) (You are blessed Sammi and Ross). I can not image what Ross is going through. What he is doing is truely remarkable.
What I said in return was don’t think anything other than, “He will make it.”
I also said “God’s Speed” and translated it in Italian. “Velocità di Dio.” Why Italian? The Dude is riding two Bianchis and I’ve got a Bianchi. Duh.
Craig(1885)

I’m managing a quick note at the hotel computer before I get back in the car to travel to TN. I’ve got RAAM and Ross on my mind since becoming a part of the experience in Missouri. My head is swirling with Big Ideas about personal character, ultimate challenges, and life philosophies in general.

To Ross, Alison, Brandon, Uncle Ron, Milton, and the rest of the crew…keep strong! Seth and I are sharing your story with anyone we meet…our server at the restaurant last night was open-mouthed amazed at what you’re doing. He told us as we left, “Wow – I am inspired.” (And he doesn’t even know Ross!)

It sounds like we missed a great station at Washington…Uncle Lee, my dad, enjoyed chatting with interested, inquisitive on-lookers who had many questions and were thrilled to cheer Ross on as he rode in. What a bummer that we missed it! It sounds like the ice cream was a winner!

I’ll post more when I get to a computer again and have figured out how to muddle through all my thoughts about what I experienced.

Ross is an amazing individual and somone I’m proud to call family.

God’s Blessing and God Speed to Muecke Racing!

Well made it to ts 32  this morning to awaken to myself flying downhill.  So we decided that maybe a few houurs of sleep would be wise.  I now have 24 hours to ride 160 miles to make the next time cutoff.  This is no  longer as easy as it sounds, as I must now balance my state of sleep against the desire to ride a bike across the country.  So we will take a few hours to warm up the legs on the way to the next ts (time stop) and verify my status.

I have had a chance to look at the raam site and am dismayed to see Sancy Earls dnf just one ts behind me.  I must say, however that the 40 miles leading up to Weabeau were incredibly hard after two days of Kansas.  Never ever ever ending rollers of 50 feet with no relief in sight allowing you no chance to find any semblance of rhythm and stride.

more later when I find my glasses and can see what the hell I’m typing!  A quick word of thanks to everyone who’s helping me continue on, and especially to Larina and Mom for coming all the way to Kansas to say hello.  Thank you as well to wife Sammi for being there on the phone whenever I need to hear her voice.

Weird, but I now know what they mean the race doesn’t start till the Mississippi.

RAAM Updates

Last Time Stop: 06/16/2010 21:51 Mile 1970.94 – 7 d 6 h 19 m – 11.31 MPH Mile 1894.13 – 6 d 18 h 45 m – 11.64 MPH Mile 1837.02 – 6 d 14 h 5 m – 11.62 MPH Mile 1788 – 6 d 7 h 10 m – 11.83 MPH Mile 1721.65 – 6 d 2 h 11 m – 11.78 MPH Mile 1662.63 – 5 d 22 h 53 m – 11.64 MPH Mile 1598.11 – 5 d 19 h 1 m -11.5 MPH Mile 1563.93 – 5 d 17 h 10 m – 11.4 MPH Mile 1487.17 – 5 d 5 h 30 m – 11.85 MPH Mile 1455.17 – 5 d 3 h 33 m -11.78 MPH Mile 1389.10 – 4 d 22 h 4 m – 11.77 MPH Mile 1338.68 – 4 d 18 h 48 m – 11.66 MPH Mile 1284.85 – 4 d 15 h 3 m – 11.57 MPH Mile 1216.49 – 4 d 8 h 18 m – 11.66 MPH Mile 1145.25 – 4 d 2 h 56 m – 11.58 MPH Mile 1080.18 – 3 d 21 h 49 m – 11.51 MPH Mile 1021.96 – 3 d 18 h 22 m – 11.31 MPH Started in Oceanside, CA 06/09/10 at 15:32 EASTERN TIME

Kansas