So I biked across the entire country eating nothing but Clif Bars and drinking nothing but Red Bulls. And before you ask—no, I'm not okay. But I was okay the whole time, which is the confusing part.
I was at REI, right? Just buying a bike. And the guy's like, "You planning any big trips?" And I was like, "Yeah, thinking about biking across America." And he goes, "Oh, you'll need to plan your nutrition carefully."
And I just... I don't know what happened. Something in my brain just went, "Or I could just eat one thing." Like, I wasn't even trying to be difficult. It just seemed easier.
My girlfriend was there. She looked at me. She knows that look. That's the look I get before I do something that makes sense to no one but me. She just went, "...Clif Bars?" And I said, "Clif Bars." She goes, "That's it?" I said, "And Red Bull."
She didn't even argue. She just walked away. She knows me.
Day one, I'm feeling great. I got like 40 Clif Bars in my bag. I got a case of Red Bull strapped to my bike with bungee cords. I look like I'm sponsored by a gas station.
People kept asking me, "What's in all those bags?" And I'd be like, "Clif Bars." They'd go, "That's it?" And I'd go, "Well, and Red Bull." And they'd just... they'd do this thing where they start to say something, then they stop. Then they start again. Then they stop. Then they just walk away.
That happened probably 30 times.
By day three, I realized I hadn't thought about what flavor of Clif Bars to get. I just grabbed whatever. So I'm eating chocolate chip for breakfast. Chocolate chip for lunch. Chocolate chip for dinner. Which is fine, but it's also not fine.
I had to stop at gas stations to restock, right? And I'd walk in, grab like 12 Clif Bars and 8 Red Bulls, and the cashier would always do the same thing. They'd scan the first Clif Bar. Then the second one. By the third one, they'd look at me. And I'd just go, "There's more."
One guy in Kansas, he scans all 12 Clif Bars, all 8 Red Bulls, and he just goes, "...You good?" And I'm like, "Yeah, I'm biking across America." And he goes, "On Clif Bars?" And I said, "And Red Bull." He just nodded real slow like, "That makes sense," even though we both knew it didn't.
Another lady in Iowa, she rings me up and goes, "Honey, there's a Subway right next door." And I was like, "I know." She goes, "They have sandwiches." I said, "I know." She said, "Fresh vegetables." And I'm standing there with 15 Clif Bars on the counter, and I just said, "I'm good."
She gave me this look like I was a lost cause. Which, fair.
This is where it gets weird. By week two, I had a system. Monday was chocolate-based Clif Bars only. Tuesday was peanut butter varieties. Wednesday was fruit flavors. I had a whole schedule.
My girlfriend called me—I'm in Colorado at this point—and she's like, "How's it going?" And I told her about my Clif Bar schedule. She was quiet for a second, then she goes, "...You made a spreadsheet, didn't you?"
I hadn't made a spreadsheet. But only because I didn't have my laptop. I described my mental spreadsheet to her. She just sighed.
Here's the thing about Red Bull—if you drink it every day for two months, it stops working. But you don't realize it stopped working until you don't drink it. Then you realize you've just been drinking carbonated corn syrup and you've somehow convinced yourself it was helping.
I was drinking like four Red Bulls a day. Before biking in the morning. After lunch. When I hit a hill. When I saw a hill in the distance. I had Red Bulls for situations that hadn't even happened yet.
And I started keeping the cans. I don't know why. They were empty. But I bungeed them to my bike. So I'm riding through Nebraska with like 80 empty Red Bull cans clanging against my bike frame. I looked like the world's most caffeinated garbage truck.
A cop pulled me over in Wyoming. Not for biking—just to ask what I was doing. I said, "Biking to the Atlantic Ocean." He looked at all my Red Bull cans and went, "...You aware those are empty?" I said, "Yeah." He goes, "So why..." and I said, "I don't know, man. I honestly don't know."
He let me go. I think he felt bad for me.
I'd meet other cyclists on the road, right? Serious cyclists. They had clipless pedals, jerseys with pockets, energy gels in little packets. They'd see me, covered in Clif Bar wrappers, smelling like Red Bull, and they'd ask what my nutrition plan was.
"Clif Bars and Red Bull."
And they'd go, "No, but like, what's your actual plan?" Like they thought I was joking. I'd have to explain I wasn't joking. Then they'd try to give me advice about electrolytes and protein and carb-loading.
I'd just smile and nod. Then I'd eat another Clif Bar in front of them. Power move.
By week four, I wasn't even hungry anymore. I'd just eat Clif Bars on schedule. 7 AM, Clif Bar. 10 AM, Clif Bar. 1 PM, Clif Bar. My body had given up trying to communicate with me.
I wasn't tired. I wasn't energetic. I was just... neutral. Like a laptop running on power-saver mode. I was doing the thing, but I wasn't happy about it.
I called my girlfriend from Pennsylvania and I said, "I think I've achieved enlightenment." She goes, "What?" I said, "I don't feel anything anymore. About food." She goes, "That's not enlightenment, that's concerning."
Fair point.
You learn things about Clif Bars when you eat 400 of them. Like, the Chocolate Chip flavor tastes different depending on what state you're in. In Arizona, it's fine. In Missouri, it's weirdly sweet. In Ohio, it tastes like sadness.
Also, if you leave a Clif Bar in your bike bag in the sun, it becomes a different food. It's not a Clif Bar anymore. It's like... Clif Soup. You gotta drink it out of the wrapper. I did that exactly once and I have regrets.
The Crunchy Peanut Butter ones are a lie, by the way. They're not crunchy. I don't know what they're talking about. I ate probably 90 of those and not once did I think, "Wow, this is crunchy."
I'm in Virginia, almost done, and I stopped at a restaurant. Didn't go in—just stood outside and looked at the menu. I had money. I could've eaten real food. But I'd gone so far on just Clif Bars and Red Bull that eating a burger felt like cheating.
So I ate another Clif Bar. In the restaurant parking lot. While looking at the menu. A guy came out and asked if I was okay. I said, "Yeah, I'm just thinking." He said, "About what?" And I said, "About if I should eat a burger." And he goes, "...You should eat a burger, man."
But I didn't. I got back on my bike and ate another Clif Bar.
I made it. Biked from the Pacific to the Atlantic. 3,112 miles. Ate 371 Clif Bars. Drank 218 Red Bulls. Visited zero restaurants.
You know what I did when I touched the Atlantic Ocean? I ate a Clif Bar. Not because I wanted to. Not because I was hungry. But because at that point, what else was I gonna do?
My girlfriend flew out to meet me. First thing she said was, "You smell like you've been living in a gas station." And honestly? Accurate.
She brought me a sandwich. A real sandwich with lettuce and tomato and everything. I looked at it like it was a foreign object. She goes, "You forgot what sandwiches are, didn't you?" And I was like, "...A little bit, yeah."
Would I do it again? No. Absolutely not. But would I recommend someone else do it? Also no.
But here's what's crazy—I felt fine the whole time. My body didn't rebel. I didn't get sick. I just... did it. Which almost makes it worse, because now I know it's possible, you know?
My doctor asked me why I did it. And I said the same thing I've said to everyone: "It seemed easier."
She just wrote something in her notes. I don't know what. But I bet it was something about me needing a therapist.
It's been six months. I still eat Clif Bars sometimes. Not because I have to. But because they remind me of something. I don't know what. Maybe that humans can do really dumb things and somehow survive them.
My girlfriend says I'm banned from planning any more long trips. She's probably right.
But I still have one Red Bull in my fridge. I'm saving it. For what? I don't know. Maybe for the next time I get an idea that makes sense to nobody but me.
Total miles: 3,112
Total Clif Bars: 371
Total Red Bulls: 218
Total times people said "you should eat real food": 847
Times I listened: 0