Twelve days. Over 3,000 miles. From the Pacific Ocean in Oceanside, CA, to the Atlantic shores of Atlantic City, NJ. That’s the Race Across America – RAAM for short – one of the most grueling endurance events on Earth, and the pinnacle of the ultracycling world.

Unlike traditional stage races like the Giro d’Italia or Tour de France, RAAM is a single-stage, non-stop race from coast to coast. Once the clock starts in California, it doesn’t stop until you reach New Jersey. Riders must complete the entire crossing in under 12 days, which means cycling up to 20 hours a day, through deserts, mountains, plains, and storms – sleeping no more than 90 minutes a night.

This year, I had the rare honor of being the only American citizen to complete RAAM solo. And at the same time, I became the 21st Italian in history to finish it, proudly carrying both flags across the continent. I was born and raised in Southern Italy, and now live in Broadview Heights, OH. This was more than a race, it was a bridge between two identities, and two homelands.

RAAM is merciless. The Arizona desert can burn you alive. The Rockies steal your breath. The winds of Kansas never end. The Appalachians are steeper than they look on any map. You hallucinate from sleep deprivation. Your body breaks down. Your soul is the only thing left to keep you moving.

And yet…you keep going. Because this race isn’t just physical. It’s spiritual.

But no one finishes RAAM alone. I had an extraordinary crew beside me, mechanics, drivers, navigators, friends who gave everything so I could make it to the end. And above all, my wife, Dr. Katarina Greer, a gastroenterologist at the Cleveland VA Medical Center and Associate Professor at Case Western Reserve University. She led the team with wisdom, strength, and grace. Without her, this dream would have died in the desert.

As a cycling coach and ultracyclist, I’ve raced across Europe and the U.S., but nothing compares to this. RAAM strips away everything fake. You can’t cheat. You can’t hide. You can’t bluff your way through 3,000 miles. In a world full of shortcuts, I chose to race clean – powered only by discipline, pain, and pride.

Now back in Ohio, my legs are healing, but I am not the same man who started in Oceanside. I crossed America. I crossed myself. And I found something that no GPS can measure: the limit of what we think is possible – and what’s waiting beyond it.

To everyone in the Italian American community, to everyone who’s ever dreamed big: No distance is too great. No challenge too hard. If you ride with heart – anything is possible.