Santa Monica to New York City
By Calvin Trampleasure February 2022
Endurance Genes
Maybe it all started at a corner bike store in Berkeley. In 1973, Velo Sport Cyclery imported bike racing magazines from England – International Cycle Sport, and France – Mirror de Cyclism. One day, an article about England’s Paul Corbett and the United States transcontinental cycling record caught my eye. Paul cycled 3,000 miles in 14 days plus a few hours. My 14-year-old mind was fascinated!
Maybe it started earlier, in 1968. Getting up at five am to deliver sixty Berkeley Gazette newspapers on my Skyway one-speed bike was exciting; the whole world lay fresh and empty, and the city streets belonged to me. Leaves with dew sparkled and the early birds sang their songs. As the sun rose, freedom was my riding buddy.
Maybe it began in 1966, as a few 8-year-old boys enjoyed the dawn’s early light, reeled in a few perch and bass from the San Francisco Bay, and cycled home with their catch. Adventure and love accompanied Mark and me, as we pedaled to the Berkeley fishing pier and back home on Sting-Ray bikes.
My parents let Jeff and me ride from Berkeley to the Nevada border and back home in the summer of 1973, right after I’d read about Corbett’s USA record. Two 14-year-old boys rode to the border and back in eight days. We pedaled up Highway 120 and rode over 10,000-foot Tioga Pass, and down past Mono Lake. At the “Nevada State Line” sign, we got a Nevada stone as a souvenir, and cycled back over Tioga Pass and home. That surely kindled my endurance ability.
Did it begin before any of those things? In 1958, was I born with endurance genes? Was cycling long distances in my nature? Did my legs pedal circles in the sky as I lay in my crib, long before I could walk?
Or did it begin in May 1974 at the Davis Double Century, a 200-mile challenge? One Saturday before dawn Walt, Reid, Christophe, and I piled bikes into a 1965 Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser station wagon. Walt owned the car and took the wheel. It was an hour drive from Berkeley to Davis. With morning light breaking and stars fading in the dawn sky, about 1,500 cyclists rode west from Davis. They headed for Cardiac Hill, Resurrection Hill, and the flat 70-miles back to Davis. The winner of the Davis Double Century finished in 9 hours and 52 minutes. All three 15-year-old boys from the Vista Cruiser station wagon beat 11 hours. I rode nearly 20-miles-an-hour for 200 miles, and finished in sixth place, in 10 hours and 8 minutes.
Did it start in 1979, at the Pan Am Game Trials 105-mile road race near the famous Rodale Farm in Pennsylvania? I finished fifth place, behind some living legends in the USA bike scene; John Howard, George Mount, Wayne Stetina, and Ian Jones. Always near the champions and a bit off the pace, was the story in my 11-year racing career. But my endurance was there, the longer the better.
It was ALL those experiences that led me to a USCF United States transcontinental record in 1982!
In the 1970s-80s, many U.S. bike racers dreamed of riding the 3-week Tour de France. Jacques Boyer from Monterey did it five times, finishing 12th place in 1983. Greg Lemond was 2nd place in 1985, and he was the first American to win the Tour in 1986. He won again in 1989 and 1990. Bob Roll rode for Team 7-11 in the 1986 Tour, and finished two more Tours. A few Northern California cyclists lived the dream.
After racing in Belgium for five months in the late 1970s and in France for 5 months in 1981, reality set in. My Tour de France dream was not to be. In October of 1981, the transcontinental record attempt became the “plan B” dream. The fastest time had dropped dramatically from Paul Corbett’s 1973 record of around 14 days. Lon Haldeman of Illinois set a new record time for the 3,000-mile ride in the summer of 1981, an impressive and daunting time of 10 days and 23 hours! Haystack (my racing nickname) set his sights on the 3,000-mile challenge in late 1981!
Allez, Allez Haystack!
For bicycle racers in the United States during the 1970s it was a big deal to win cash prizes. Most prizes were a bike frame, tires, handlebar tape or some little random bike part. At the 1978 Giro de San Francisco I won $210 cash, and that paid for more than a month’s rent. In Bisbee, Arizona, the prize for fourth place in a 4-stage race was a pair of size 13, bright green Puma shoes. Those shoes didn’t help cover the cost of the flight to Phoenix or the Rent-a-Wreck car or gas. In Belgium, I won about $80 for third place finishes, and cash was common for amateur races. In Holland I once won $140 for a sixth place.
“I pedal mine for cash,” was a small sticker Bob Roll gave me early in 1982. I was to earn a monthly check from Specialized Bicycles to train for the first Great American Bike Race. The race started in Santa Monica and ended in New York City. I stuck the sticker on the frame of my bike. For the first time, I earned a monthly paycheck to ride a bike.
Specialized was a sponsor of the Berkeley Bicycle Club in the early 1980s. With Plan B getting off the ground in November 1981, I approached Michael Sinynard, founder of Specialized, and Tom Petrie to sponsor my transcontinental record attempt. Tom, a BBC member who worked for Specialized, helped seal the deal.
Specialized gave me an Allez steel bike for the record attempt. I received $400 per month to train for the event, plus another $200 per month to race USCF races. I also was given bike clothes and tires. It was a moral boost to get the support of a major bike company! They believed I could break Lon Haldeman’s record of 10 days and 23 hours. I was given $5,000 up front in May for the record attempt, with a $10,000 bonus should I break Haldeman’s record.
With no other endurance riders in the S.F. East Bay, I made up my own preparation program. In December of 1981, with my red Specialized Allez assembled and ready to roll, I began training. Starting at 250-300 miles per week, and building up to 700-800 miles a week by May, I was doing miles more like a European pro rider than an endurance rider. I should have thrown in a few 800-mile rides and pedaled through a few nights, to see how my body handled that kind of challenge. My longest rides were about 140 miles, a favorite was from Berkeley to Brentwood and back west over Patterson Pass to home.
Not many other BBC racing cyclists wanted to accompany me for 130-140 mile rides, but I would enjoy the company of a few BBC teammates before they headed home.
Sony Walkman tape players had just hit the market. I bought one for $100, and would listen to Gil Scott Heron, The Clash, Grand Master Flash and other more mellow music like Arlo Guthrie, The Cars, Stevie Nicks, or The Police (Spirits in the Material World) as I rode. Back then we would create “mixed tapes” with various artists, taping songs from LPs to cassette tapes. High tech for the day! The music kept me moving. I memorized long songs like The Message by Grand Master Flash, or Alice’s Restaurant by Arlo Guthrie.
Much of most rides was with no Walkman music. I loved wind on my face, sun on my skin, and bird songs in my ears while riding along in spring green California hills. I felt part of my surroundings in a way that fed my spirit. A ride around the back side of Mt. Diablo with tough climbs and quick descents was heaven. A ride alongside a creek up Palomares Canyon Road, riding with a fit rhythm was true bliss. At times, the pedaling became poetry. Heartbeats, breathe, and sweat would merge with a being of my soul. Nature and fitness merged, and I knew truth I never learned in school. A truth born from experience of doing something you love with joyful satisfaction.
Recovery after rides was essential. After a shower, and some food, laying down was illuminating. From the endorphins and fatigue, I felt like a “spirit in the material world.”
Other days, riding was just hard work. Some days were just “resting on the saddle” and learning to recover while riding. For a transcontinental ride this was essential to experience.
In May, I paid $15 to a U.C. Berkeley grad student to measure my body fat. He lowered me into a big tank of water at Harmon Gym, and the submerged body fat test showed I had just 4.2 percent body fat. Not much extra body fuel to start a 3,000-mile ride. Still, instead of eating more and bulking up a bit, I just kept on my same rather naïve path. No endurance coach offered words of wisdom.
That month I rode the Davis Double Century in 8 hours, 28 minutes, riding nearly 25 miles per hour. The next weekend I rode 70 miles from Berkeley to Los Gatos, then finished second place in 40-mile Cat’s Hill Criterium behind Chris Huber, a national team member.
While fit and feeling great, this training was not what transcontinental riders would do in later years. No one was there to coach me. I just did my best with what I knew. What was missing were 3-day rides through the night to adjust to fatigue and still ride on.
In March, I requested to be included in Great American Bike Race (GABR). I needed an endurance ride record to prove my worth in the eyes of the GABR committee.
Seattle-San Diego Record Attempt
The Seattle-San Diego record was 4 days and 4 hours in 1982. Michael Shermer, one of the four riders selected for the first GABR (later RAAM – Race Across America), held the record. For me to be accepted in the GABR transcontinental event, I needed to break this record.
My brother Lee, Tim Parker and Ed Bense would be my Seattle-San Diego crew. Ed was the UCSF official, Tim the mechanic and Lee all-around-helper with food prep, driving and massage. We rented a red Dodge van and drove to Seattle.
On a drizzly Seattle day in May, Ed Bense started the watch, and I rode down the wet road headed for San Diego. Most of the ride was along Interstate 5. Riding though Washington and Oregon, I was on schedule to beat the record. After getting into California and riding by Mt. Shasta and Redding, things began to change. My riding speed slowed, and energy levels sagged.
I don’t remember much of the ride, except how uninspiring it was to ride the shoulder of I-5 in California. By the time my crew and I had reached Bakersfield, the record was out of reach. We stopped at a gas station by Castaic Junction and realized the truth. There were 200 miles to go to San Diego, and less than 8 hours to get there. Riding over the “grapevine grade” and through Los Angeles traffic would take longer than that. I abandoned the attempt, and we drove back to Berkeley.
Not breaking the record didn’t help my case to be the fifth rider accepted in the GABR. I had beat Pete Penseyres (one of the four GABR riders) at the 1982 Davis Double Century by 9 minutes, but that was just a 200-mile event. The day-after-day grind of endurance riding with little sleep was to be an enormous challenge for me. Penseyres could ride on just 1-2 hours of sleep a night across the USA.
Factwino and The Race for Disarmament
The San Francisco Mime Troupe’s Factwino was the main character in the troupe’s annual summer show in 1981. I watched one of the last shows after having returned to Berkeley from Paris in September of 1981.
The Mime Troupe is a political and musical performing group, a part of the populist and progressive politics of the Bay Area. The Mime Troupe has entertained people in parks and theaters throughout the area since their formation in the early 1960s. Today, they continue to be a liberal legend in the Bay Area, acting and singing into the hearts of thousands of fans.
In the summer of 1981, it was Factwino Meets the “Moral Majority”. In 1982, the show would star Factwino again, as he fought the Military-Industrial Complex. Factwino earned his name because he was intoxicated with learning and knowledge. He thought everyone should have a library card, take an interest in the well-being of humanity, and learn what was really going on in the world.
“If you know, then you should act, as the armies of the night approach,” was the final song in the show. The message was no matter who you are, or what you do, it is essential that you get involved and take action to make the world a better place. Democracy depended on it!
Growing up in a “how-Berkeley-can-you-be family” in the 1960-70s, this was no new idea. My mother directed the UNA-USA Center in Berkeley for more than a decade. My father wrote letters to the editor and attended protests marches and peace vigils.
So, with Factwino’s inspiration, I called Specialized to ask if I could use my transcontinental ride to publicize the United Nations Second Session on Disarmament in New York City in June. Without any hesitation, they approved it. I still admire Michael Sinyard and Tom Petrie for the support.
I am not sure this “political issue” helped my cause getting accepted to the GABR. Two of the four riders were from a traditionally very conservative area of Los Angeles. When I called John Marino to let him know about the U.N. publicity issue, he said he would get back to me.
“Sorry, Calvin, we decided that four riders are all we need for the first GABR,” Marino told me over the phone. “A fifth rider would just make the event logistically too complicated.”
In 2021, I asked Marino if the U.N. publicity issue had been a reason I was not allowed to participate in the first GABR. He replied that he didn’t remember it being part of the decision. I bet if I had broken the Seattle-San Diego record I would have been accepted.
In a documentary of the first 20 years of RAAM, Lon Haldeman reports Shermer was accepted in the 1982 GABR because he held the Seattle-San Diego record of 4 days and 4 hours and that gave him an endurance ride record. He was also a good friend of John Marino.
So, my support group in Berkeley picked June 15 to depart from the Santa Monica Pier. To beat Haldeman’s record, I would arrive in NYC on June 25, my 24th birthday. The U.N. Session on Disarmament was in full swing in NYC.
The GABR was set to start in early August, after I completed my solo ride.
Amber Waves of Grain, Purple Mountains Majesty, Fruited Plains, and The Fate of the Earth
My transcontinental support group included my father Bill, my mother Mary Lee, my brother Lee, mechanic Tim Parker, my mom’s friend Alison and our United States Cycling Federation (USCF) official Mike Kilgore. Reid Bennett was our Public Relation’s man; he would contact news outlets along the route from his Berkeley home.
We rented a motor home for $50 a day, and a Ford Camper Van for $20 a day, to be support vehicles. Someone donated a Honda 250 motorcycle too. On June 14, we left Berkeley and headed for Santa Monica. Prior to leaving, I gave my first press conference in front of the Berkeley City Hall, telling a few newspaper reporters and one TV-station crew about my ride and the importance of disarmament.
The Santa Monica Pier is just across the street from the RAND Corporation. In the parking lot of RAND, we held our second press conference. Ruth Goldway, the socialist mayor of Santa Monica was there, along with one TV station and a newspaper reporter. RAND Corporation is a conservative “think tank” and our “Race for Disarmament” banners on our motor home (The Hulk) was in stark contrast to the views of the RAND Corporation. Mayor Goldway, however, supported our cause.
Two USCF officials met with our ride official Mike Kilgore. Mike’s job was to make sure I did not cheat. Since I was the last transcontinental rider sanctioned by the USCF, my finishing time is in the UCSF record book to this day. In 1983, the Ultramarathon Cycling Association was established and has sanctioned all record attempts since then.
Early next morning, after getting a full night’s sleep, my ride started. Riding on city streets that Lon Haldeman had ridden felt comforting. At 100.6 miles, I rode onto Interstate 10 east toward Arizona. With Santa Ana tailwinds blowing me along, I rode at a fast pace. At 241 miles, I crossed the Colorado River into Arizona. I had been riding about 12 hours.
Using Lon Haldeman’s typed route directions, The Hulk and I turned left on Highway 60 and headed toward Prescott, AZ. We passed though small towns like Wendon and Aguila, then took Highway 71. After 346 miles, I took my first break, sleeping in The Hulk at a roadside rest stop for about four hours. My dad drove on to the next small town, Congress, to donate a book.
My dad got 23 copies of Johnathan Shell’s The Fate of the Earth donated for the ride (see reviews, free online, or purchase) . The book documented the real threat to the world from many countries building nuclear weapons stockpiles. Even if the weapons are never used again (Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan), the cost for many countries was enormous. The United States spent nearly 60 percent of its tax dollars on “military spending” in 1982. The U.S. military expenditures from 1945-1981 (excluding foreign military aid) was $2 trillion. That was 235 times the amount spent on the United Nations during those same years. For 2022, the US military budget is $880 billion!
The first library where my dad donated Shell’s book was the library in Congress, Arizona. This was one part of our educational efforts along the route. Twenty-three books were left in small libraries across the country, and my dad got great satisfaction from these acts. The final book was donated to the United Nations Library, and in mid-July we received a thank-you letter from Gloria Leo, librarian of the Dag Hammarskjold Library in the U.N.
Another part of the educational effort were the goldenrod brochures. My parents and crew passed out the brochures to people along the route in hundreds of small towns. The Hulk would drive ahead to the next town and the crew would pass out the brochures to people on the streets. I had written my thoughts about military spending, and there was a photo of me on the cover. A main point was money would be better spent on public schools and civic improvement projects than on weapons of mass destruction.
Once, in a small Kansas town, my mom gave a brochure to a couple old timers sitting on a park bench.
“Well, Slim, we really need all the military to make things safe,” one of the old codgers started.
“But look, Hank, we need the old swimming pool fixed, and there’s the plumbing that my friend Fred told me needs some real work out at the elementary school,” Slim replied. “Have you seen the cracks in Harry’s old bridge outside of town? Hmmm, I think the bike kid might have a point.”
After talking to them a bit, my mom and the park-bench buddies waved to me as I rode by.
Mom always told this story to show what we hoped to do, get people talking about an important issue. Factwino was there in spirit as people started real discussions.
There were long and hot roads in Arizona headed toward Prescott, then the purple mountain majesty of the state appeared. Climbing the mountains past Jerome and Sedona, we continued on to Flagstaff. We were 487.8 miles into the ride, I was still ahead of Haldeman’s record time.
At Flagstaff, Lon Haldeman’s instructions read, “Go under bridge – Turn right at University Campus. Take I-40 to Albuquerque. Must turn right for 100 ft. then take a U turn to the left.” Lon had driven this course before he set his record, a pioneering effort to determine the best routes.
With the largest climbs behind, I rode onto Interstate 40 and headed to Albuquerque, New Mexico. At 527.7 miles, I rode across Meteor Bridge. A mile past that was an interstate rest area. Sometimes I would catch a 2-3 hour nap in The Hulk at a rest area. Other times the camper van would park in the shade of trees in a local park. A few times, later in the ride, I would stay in a quiet motel where I’d get a good five hours of sleep on a real bed.
My support team and I passed though towns like Petrified Forest, Querino, Big Arrow, Window Rock before we reached the New Mexico border. I was still feeling good, and ahead of Lon’s record at 656.2 miles. Just before Thoreau, we crossed the Continental Divide with 702.3 miles ridden. There was still a long way to go, 2,262 miles to New York City.
A reporter form Gallup’s KGAK interviewed me. This meant a quick stop to fill my bottles, eat some food and answer interview questions. I pedaled along through towns like Mesita and Los Locos. We arrived in Albuquerque, with 814 miles completed.
It was near Albuquerque that a lack of sleep really started to hit. Day three was one of the toughest days of the ride. Bike riders have a term “bonk” when all energy sources of your body are drained, and it is hard to just keep on pedaling. I took a few food breaks to try to replenish lost reserves, hoping to work through a huge bonk. Eventually, my energy returned, and I rolled along at a faster speed.
The Hulk and van, and the Specialized Allez reached Albuquerque, NM. Reid, our PR man back in Berkeley had scheduled an interview with the major TV station. My lips were coated with a thick zinc paste to help my sunburned lips recover. I answered questions about the race for disarmament and how it was to ride so far. Then I pedaled nearly 200 miles east on I-40.
Just past Tucumcari, NM, we exited I-40 onto a two-lane road, Highway 54. We would stay on Highway 54 for nearly 1,000 miles. The highway cut across a corner of the Panhandle in Texas and entered Kansas with its amber waves of grain.
Once in Kansas, there seemed to be a small town every 10 miles. I would ride through one town and see a grain silo or two in the distance. About 10 miles later, we would pass through another town, and then see the next grain silos in the distance. The amber waves of grain are harvested, stored in silos, and then transported on trucks and trains. Long 100-plus car trains would pass, as the tracks paralleled Highway 54.
I rode through Hooker, Liberal, Plains, and Bloom Kansas, to name a few. Lon’s record was quickly disappearing from my sight. My sleep deprived body was starting to slow, and I faded from his record pace.
As we entered Missouri the terrain became more rolling. The state line was 1,586.2 into the ride, just over half-way. Until the big bonk near Albuquerque, I had stayed ahead of Lon’s record and was feeling good. Once the record became more unlikely, my morale sagged. I pedaled on, but my confidence to beat the record was near drained. I decided I need to finish the ride, no matter how many times my energy waned. Peter Rich, my first coach, always told us to never quit a race.
Francesa Saveri, my girlfriend, flew into Kansas City and joined the crew. She bolstered my spirits. My brothers leg massages helped. My mom’s creative cooking helped. Knowing the spectators were reading our brochures, and that the Fate of the Earth books were added to libraries, was encouraging. Having strangers wave and smile was up-lifting. Riding though a new small town was fun. Still some hours were just a drag, my body found a slow speed to settle into. My average at the NYC finish was 10.3 miles per hour, while the first third of the ride was near 14 mph.
Sleep deprivation took a huge toll. I always needed a full eight hours sleep to feel sharp mentally and physically. In my racing years, I could win races on five hours of sleep, but that was just one night with little sleep. After five days of riding across the USA, I started sleeping 5 hours a night, still I was fading fast.
Most champion RAAM racers (the Great American Bike Race was renamed the Race Across America, RAAM, in 1983) in future years could handle sleep deprivation. The winners often slept just 60-90 minutes per 24-hour days. Pete Penseyres, who set a record that stood for 27 years, rode the 1986 RAAM at 15.4 miles per hour, he slept about an hour each day.
So, I continued on in my sleep-deprived, reduced capacity. The second half of the ride became a blur. Pedal, eat, drink, sleep, eliminate unnecessary waste, and repeat and repeat and repeat.
Crossing the Mississippi River at 1,863 miles was memorable. At 1,869 miles Highway 54 meets Highway 96 at Atlas. The god Atlas was condemned to hold up the sky for all eternity. I felt condemned to a slow pace, I never got renewed energy the remainder of the ride.
Haldeman’s route descriptions got more detailed with directions like “Turn left on 11th street…stop sign…brick building says Carver Parrish.” My crew took care of the details, and directed me where to turn.
Riding at night, near Crisman, Illinois, state troopers pulled us over. I had no lights or reflectors on my bike and that was illegal. At night, the crew van would drive behind me with its headlights to light my way. The Illinois troopers insisted we pull over at the next exit and stay until dawn. That became an unplanned chance for sleep. I wonder if the disarmament signs had not been on the van if they might have let us go.
I rode through beautiful land in West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and the Blue Ridge Mountains. Still it was an exercise of patience and persistence to carry on each day. I was way behind Haldeman’s record. The encouragement of my crew was essential. Sometimes, Tim Parker would ride alongside me for company. My Walkman and the music helped some, but mostly just the rhythm of my pedaling and the sounds of the woods was most comforting.
Near Hershey PA, at 2,769 miles, the smell of chocolate was strong miles away from town. Lon had noted “health food store” on right at mile 2,786, and again a couple other times. He was known for eating pizza and milk shakes and burgers during his record ride. Maybe he added a few healthier items near the end?
My mom made lots of spaghetti on the ride, cooking it on the stove of the Hulk. She made up a raisin/yam/cream cheese high-calorie delight that digested well. Breakfast would be runny oatmeal with raisins, or maybe a few pancakes. She got me lots of bananas and oranges, both of which I loved. Fig bars were part of my diet too. Sometimes a liquid bowl of rice with a bit of chicken was tasty. I did not eat pizza and drink milk shakes like Lon Haldeman. Five years later, vegetarian Jacques Boyer, would win the RAAM eating nuts and fruit. By RAAM events of 2000s, John Marino told me, most riders had strictly liquid meals, with the best nutritionists at work to make them healthy and fulfilling.
With 500 miles to go, I just wanted to get to New York and be done with the ride. I had no desire to do this ride again!
New York City Hall and The Isaiah Wall 12 days, 3 hours, 24 minutes
As New York City grew closer, my energy was somewhat restored. I remember really flying along a couple highways in Pennsylvania, maybe riding at 20 miles an hour or more. The excitement of completing the ride fueled my morale and energy.
My crew members had secured a police escort for the final miles. Two squad cars met me just before the Holland tunnel. With the flashing light escort of two police cars, I was allowed to ride through the tunnel. RAAM rides in future years crossed the Washington Bridge into NYC. I may have been the only rider in history to have a police escort through the Holland Tunnel. The Hulk, with its propane tanks for the stove, was not allowed to follow and had to cross the Washington Bridge and make it through New York City traffic. My brother rode the Honda 250, with UCSF official Mike on the back, through the tunnel behind me. Tim Parker drove the small crew van.
I rode out of the tunnel and to the New York City Hall. A handful of NYC police waited my arrival and the squad cars pulled to the curb. The officers took photos, shook my hand, and asked questions. Only my brother Lee, Tim, and Mike, the USCF official, were with me at the City Hall finish. It was about an hour later when the Hulk arrived with the rest of the crew and I got hugs and kisses from them all.
My transcontinental time was 12 days, 3 hours, and 24 minutes. It was June 27, two days after my 24th birthday. I was relieved and satisfied to have finished. Never in my life would I again ride more than 200 miles in a day!
In August of 1982, the GABR riders finished at New York’s Empire State Building. Lon Haldeman finished in 9 days and 20 hours, beating John Howard and Michael Shermer. John Marino finished fourth with a time of 12 days and 7 hours.
“In retrospect, I view Lon’s victory in that first event as a sign of things to come. Lon was our first hero. He was a pure distance racer, the first of a new breed of American cyclist. He taught this pure bike racer a few lessons on the subject of sleep deprivation that I will never forget,” John Howard said.
After showers, a good meal and a good night sleep, my crew got back into our race vehicles to drive west across the USA and home. We made a stop at one very important NYC location, the Isiah Wall: “…they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” (Isaiah 2-4)
Martin Luther King, Jr. once said that all the bombs falling in Vietnam were also falling in inner-cities across the United States. The US tax money used to bomb and napalm Vietnam and Cambodia caused devastation to those countries. In the Pentagon Papers in 1967, Dan Ellsberg revealed the whole war was based on false political statements. What if much of the money that gets sucked away today with our defense budget (in 2022, $880 billion) was used for other purposes?
Improving our public schools, health education, fixing deteriorating infrastructures and helping reduce medical costs are important things to do. Martin Luther King, Jr. was right. Where do we best spend our federal tax money?
King also said, “If you are a street sweeper, sweep the streets so well that the hosts of heaven look down and say, ‘now there lives a great street sweeper.’”
Doing our best with what we have, in our unique situations is a good road to ride.
Forty years later, I’m glad I rode the transcontinental ride just one time. By 1984, I earned a journalism degree at Humboldt State University. Then after a few years of bike racing, I earned a multiple subject teaching credential at Cal State Hayward. This is my 35th year teaching at elementary schools in West Contra Costa Unified School District (WCCUSD). That is a different kind of feat of endurance!
Those lessons of the 3,000-mile transcontinental ride carry over in many ways to my current profession. The words about the street sweeper do too!
Transcontinental Records / RAAM History
1884 The first recorded transcontinental bicycle ride was completed by Thomas Stevens. His time was 103 days.
1982 The Great American Bike Race of 1982 started at Santa Monica Pier and finished at the Statue of Liberty in New York City. Marino, Howard, Shermer and Haldeman were the four riders that first year. Haldeman won with a time of 9 days, 20 hours, and 2 minutes. Lon averaged 12.57 miles per hour for the 3,000 miles. In 1983 the race was renamed the Race Across America (RAAM). Riders were required to qualify in 500-mile events and were not selected by committee.
In 1982, John Marino finished 4th in 12 days, 7 hours, 37 minutes. He averaged 10.04 miles per hour. He suffered many physical challenges that year. He became the director of RAAM in 1983.
1985 After finishing 12th place in the 1983 Tour de France, Boyer rode the 1985 Race Across America (RAAM). He won in 9 days, 2 hours, and 6 minutes. He was considered “un-marginal” in France, an outsider, or a hippie – his diet consisted of lots of nuts and fruits and no meat. As a vegetarian, he rode across the United States. Boyer completed the 2006 RAAM as well, finishing first place again.
In the 1985 race, Jacques Boyer blazed by leader Michael Secrest with 1,200 miles to go.
“He’ll fall flat on his face…with no sleep…he can’t do it,” Secrest said to a motorcycle cameraman.
The motorcycle journalist interviewed Boyer a few miles down the road.
“I don’t know,” Boyer replied at first, as he gave a wry smile to the camera.
“If you have enough will power and you want something bad enough, you can get your body to do anything…ANYTHING,” Boyer said. “If you have enough concentration and you give it the right food.”
“What do you want it (your body) to do now?” the motorcycle journalist asked.
The sly Boyer smile appeared again.
“Go to Atlantic City,” he replied. The steely resolve of a true champion gleamed in Boyer’s eyes.
1986 Pete Penseyres won in a record time of 15.40 mph, a record that stood for 27 years. He crossed the country in 8 days, 9 hours, and 47 minutes. This quote is from an Ultra Marathon Association article:
“While Penseyres did not race in the 1985 event — crewing instead for his brother Jim — a challenge, of sorts, was laid down. At least in Pete’s mind. Jonathan Boyer, the first American to ride in the Tour de France, was the victor in RAAM 1985. At least some people thought his victory proved road racers were better athletes than ultra-cyclists. Not so, said Penseyres. And he set out to prove it.
What followed, the Penseyres training regimen, is legendary. A mechanical engineer by trade, Penseyres clocked 1,000 miles a week at his peak. He rode with local races to gain speed. He left work on Fridays riding 400 miles to build endurance. He applied his professional skills in developing one of the first sets of aero bars. He trained to ride primarily on a liquid diet. He was ready for the showdown.”
Penseyres time was 8 days, 9 hours, and 47 minutes, nearly one day faster than Boyer’s time in 1985. (Boyer rode the 1986 Tour de France, not the RAAM.)
The woman’s RAAM winner in 1986 was Elaine Mariolle, from Oakland CA. It was her third RAAM, she finished 3rd place the previous two years. Mariolle’s time was 10 days and 2 hours. My brother Lee served on Elaine’s support crew for all three of her races (one of his claims to fame is that he has massaged knees across the country four times with no injuries).
All Time RAAM records: For 27 years, Pete Penseyres 1986 crossing in 15.40 mph stood as a superhuman feat.
Christoph Strasser, from Austria, has the current RAAM record. He rode at 16.42 mph in the 2014 event. His time of 7 days, 15 hours and 56 minutes is faster than most people would drive across the country!
Sheila Hogan was the most successful RAAM rider, winning the women’s title six times in the 1990s. In 1995, her 9-day, 4-hour time was 13.22 mph. That women’s record still stands. She lives in Valley Springs, CA. To prepare for RAAM races she would ride 400-1,400 miles per week.
2021 Leah Goldstein became the first woman overall winner of RAAM, in a time of 11 days, 3 hours and 3 minutes. Her average speed was 11.8 mph. The race started in Oceanside, CA and finished in Annapolis, MD. It was the hottest RAAM in history, with many riders dropping out of the event. Goldstein is a Canadian, who lived many years in Israel.
What Roads to Ride Next?
“Bombs Bursting in Air” Or “Shedding Grace on Thee”?
“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.” – Jimi Hendrix
Back in 1931-1932, Texan Plennie Wingo walked backwards from Santa Monica Pier to New York City. Wingo wore small dentist-style mirrors on his glasses. His restaurant failed in the Great Depression, and Wingo planned to make money from sponsors of his walk. He planned to send money to his wife and young daughter back home. To make more money, he also sold postcards of himself for 25 cents, but gave most of them away. He never sent money to his family, and returned home to Texas with $4 in his pocket.
In 1932, the United States spent $15 million for the military and $40 million for K-12 public schools (figures adjusted for inflation to 2021 dollars). That’s nearly three times more for schools.
“Who would Jesus bomb?” is a pacifist bumper sticker. “It will be a great day when schools get all the money they need and the Pentagon has to hold a bake sale to buy bombers,” states another.
It has been 40 years since my 1982 Race for Disarmament. In the USA we sing, “…the bombs bursting in air, gave proof to the night that our flag was still there…” at thousands of public gatherings.
We also sing, “Oh, beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain, for purple mountains majesty, above the fruited plain. America, America! God shed his grace on thee, and crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea.”
“Shed grace on thee…crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea,” sure has a better ring than “bombs bursting in air.” Maybe we need a new national anthem?
With gun shots ringing out in cities, homes, and schools across our county, what do we truly value in our amazingly wonderful and complicated country? Violence has seeped into many corners of our lives, as the “sacred cow” grazes freely from our federal tax money.
Military spending is a “sacred cow” in the USA. Our “defense spending” still remains at nearly 60 percent (including past war debts) of our federal budget. In 2022, the USA’s “sacred cow” military budget is still highly revered and accepted—and stands at $880 billion!
Back in the 1960s, Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “This country has socialism for the rich and rugged individualism for the poor.” Big banks and big corporations get bailed out with our tax dollars, and the Pentagon gets as much money from Washington politicians as it requests.
Back in 1959, when I was just one-year old, President Eisenhower warned the country about the dangers of the “military industrial complex” and how it might be a threat to our democracy. How prophetic was his warning!
When I rode my first bike, a red Goodwill $6 special, in 1963, the United States’ defense budget was $54 billion. In 1981 the defense budget grew to $143 billion. During my 1982 transcontinental ride, the budget had rocketed to $221 billion! It will be $880 billion for 2022.
Maybe it is time to collectively “walk backwards” in the United States, much like Plennie Wingo did years ago? What if the USA spent three times as much for public schools as we do for the military, just like back in Wingos’ year of 1932? That would require a large portion of the defense budget to be redirected to healthier places like schools. How about more money for groups working to create sustainable systems as well?
What if regenerative agriculture was funded instead of government subsidized farming practices that lead to depleted soil and the use of toxic sprays? Regenerative farming sequesters carbon back to the earth and makes soil healthy. (See Kiss the Ground on Netflix.) Aren’t there better ways to spend our federal tax money than to build bombs, planes, subs, drones, and ships for the military, and maintain a huge nuclear weapon arsenal?
The United States already spends more on its military than the next 10 nations combined—and more than 10 times what Russia spends. In fact, the US spends $4 million every hour of every day on nuclear weapons, and we already have enough to end the world several times over. We do not need to spend more.
Who knows, maybe the “sacred cow” waste of militarism is part of awakening as a culture? That was my hope in 1982, and it remains my hope today.
Meanwhile, there are so many bikes, so many roads and time to ride! Let’s shed “grace on thee!” and spread “cyclinghood…from sea to shining sea.” Two-wheel pedal power to us all!
Human evolution is a long road with many “potholes” and “unexpected turns.” Let us ride its new roads carefully as well, and ease into a peaceful turn.
This blog story is dedicated to my “adopted grandfather,” Porter Myron Chaffee, 1900-1989. Porter was a longshoreman and belonged to the International Workers of the World. He raised two sons and built four homes with his wife of 57-years, Veolan. He wrote poems and short stories. He took part in San Francisco’s general strike in 1934. Porter, like my parents Bill and Mary Lee, advocated for economic justice and peace issues. Porter loved people and life!
This blog story is also a huge thank you to my 1982 Transcontinental Team: Mary Lee and Bill Trampleasure, Lee Trampleasure, Tim Parker, Mike Kilgore, Francesca Saveri, and Rene Baron.
I asked the rose how she bloomed so fair,
and where she got, such a lovely face,
she blushed and said I am grateful for,
the cow dung at my base!
Porter M. Chaffee, 1900-1989