As I passed the 2,000-mile mark, I kept my eyes open for someone to record the historic moment on my camera.
I approached a guy on a bicycle - a rare sight round these parts, and surely a kindred spirit - but he just uttered a string of nonsense sounds, said 'No, no' and wobbled off.
Then I saw a couple in an SUV switching drivers, and went over to them. She wound up her window, and he wagged his finger reprovingly at me as if to say whatever it is you want, we're not interested. But I persisted, and soon we were chatting away; they were on a thousand-mile journey to Macon, Georgia, so at least we had something in common.
I thought back to the day I reached 1,000 miles: October 6, all the way back in Murray, Kentucky. It feels like only yesterday, but excluding my three-week Christmas break it was thirteen weeks ago. I'm not sure, but I reckon I've got about another 1,300 miles to walk.
The next milestone, which I probably won't quite reach before I head off to New Orleans on Thursday, is crossing the New Mexico state line and entering another timezone. After that I'll be making my way southwest to El Paso, which is actually back in Texas and on the Mexican border.