Just after 9 o'clock in the evening on August 29, 2015, a guy riding a big white BMW rolled up to the brand's Manhattan dealership on West 57th Street. A small crowd met him there with hugs, cameras, and papers to sign. The man they were there to welcome, a 47-year-old Californian named Carl Reese, had ridden 2,829 miles from Los Angeles in just 38 hours and 49 minutes. That was fast enough to sent a new record.

What's amazing about this feat, which Reese announced last week, isn't the speed with which he made the trip—people in cars have made the trip in less time—but how he did it: Alone. Reese is just the sixth person to hold a solo record for the famed "Cannonball Run." Solo, because he did it on a motorcycle, with no one to take the wheel to give him a break or relieve the physical toll of spending serious time on a bike. Along with epic physical exertion, Reese's run was the product of serious planning, teams on the ground for extra help, a bit of luck, and a bunch of spin classes.

Reese, who's day job is running Carl Reese Construction Company, is no rookie to cannonballing. He set six records between April and October, including the shortest charging time to cross the US in an electric vehicle. In other words, he drove from LA to New York in a Tesla Model S P85D that spent all of 12 hours and 48 minutes plugged in. He and two co-drivers also were the first to drive coast-to-coast in a semi-autonomous car (also a Model S P85D).

Ryan Sorensen

Those trips were physically taxing and required meticulous planning, but they were a quick errand compared to Reese’s record-setting ride. And unlike those rather granular records, the motorcycle trip is a direct descendent of the original 1914 Cannonball Run, created when Irwin Baker raced his Indian motorcycle across the country in 11 days. George Egloff set the previous motorcycle speed record of 42 hours in 1983.

Reese, a lifelong motorcyclist, had been pondering the trip for about two years. He started taking spin classes in 2014 to condition his core (and his butt) for long stretches on a motorcycle seat. He worked with a physical therapist to strengthen back. But even that goes only so far; Reese wore padded cycling shorts for just a bit more support under his thick riding pants.

Eight months before taking off, Reese started planning the route, analyzing historical data to find which days would have the least traffic and best riding conditions. He chose August 28 to take advantage of a full moon, and ultimately decided to leave LA at 3:15 am and follow Highway 15 toward Las Vegas. Then he hopped on Interstate 70 and kept rolling east through Utah, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, and Pennsylvania before wrapping up in Manhattan at 9:04 pm on the 29th.

Research and discussions with others who'd attempted to set a record revealed an obvious truth: those who fail typically fall victim to extreme fatigue. “They would drive three quarters of the way across the country and they would lay down on a picnic table at a roadside rest stop and not wake up for six hours,” Reese says. And so six weeks before setting off, Reese swore off sugar and caffeine, thereby making what little coffee he drank during the ride all the more effective. He refused to use stimulants, and planned just one two-hour nap during the entire trip.

Reese hit an especially low point a few hours after that nap, which ended up lasting one hour, not two. He was in Kansas, which, as anyone who's ridden across it, knows is a grind, and running out of steam. “I told the pit crews in my helmet that I was exhausted and I didn’t think I could go any further." Caffeine to the rescue. "I pulled over and I got a quarter cup of coffee," Reese says. "So it gave me a bump and that got me to daylight.”

No one could help him stay awake and upright on the bike, but he did have lots of help. "I don’t think one guy could throw a leg over a motorcycle and do something like this," Reese says. A dozen groups of safety teams spread out along the route to monitor road conditions, keep him abreast of weather changes, and to look out for cops. That last point is important: Reese averaged 73 mph on the whole trip, and periodically topped 110, so getting pulled over was a constant risk with serious repercussions.

Ryan Sorensen

Reese's most important partner was his motorcycle. The 2015 K 1600 GT is a natural for such shenanigans. The 650-pound bike is the two-wheeled equivalent of a Barcalounger, if a Barcalounger packed a 1,649-cc six-cylinder engine good for almost 140 mph. Reese added a few accessories, including a pair of LED lamps not quite as bright as the sun. He added an extra fuel cell to boost his range to 400 miles between fill-ups. A massive water bladder kept him hydrated, and easy-to-eat snacks like nuts, sandwiches, and fruit kept him energized. This, of course, raises the question of bathroom breaks. Reese wore a condom catheter, a common trick in motorcycle endurance racing.

If the post-nap stress in Kansas was Reese's physical low point, the scariest moment came in Belmont, Ohio, about 300 miles from the finish line. Reese's rear tire was all but bald by the time he hit Indianapolis, so he'd slowed down through Ohio, nursing it along until he could work with BMW to get it replaced. Then, through fate or luck or coincidence or a minor miracle, he spotted a Harley Davidson dealership, and pulled in. "They dropped everything they were doing when they heard what I was doing and they put their whole entire staff on fitting the bike with a new tire.” (In thanks, he later sent them a few cases of beer.) So Reese got back on his bike and barreled toward Manhattan. When he saw the city skyline along the New Jersey turnpike, he burst into tears inside his helmet, knowing the endeavor was nearly over.

Greg Ledet

After his triumphant arrival on 57th Street, Reese chatted with video crews for a bit, and signed official documentation with witnesses and notaries to confirm his record-breaking time. Despite the spin classes and the padded shorts, he says, "my backside was raw. There was no sitting down for the next couple days.” He celebrated by going to the hotel with his fiancé and falling asleep while chewing his food.

When asked if there’s anything he could have done to tighten up his record-setting run, Reese notes the flat tire slowed him down a bit, and that using stimulants could let someone else go faster—not that he recommends it. His most succinct advice, though, comes as an afterthought: “If you don’t stop, that’s the trick.”