How I Survived the Taco Bell 50K Running on Supremes and Cinnabon Delights

by Felix Wong | 04 Oct 2025

On my flight from Spain, somewhere over the Atlantic, I remembered an Instagram post my friend Raquel had sent me twelve months ago. It was about a ridiculous event in Denver called the Taco Bell 50K Ultramarathon—a 31-mile run that included eating a Taco Bell item at nine of the ten Taco Bells along the course. It wasn’t just a test of endurance; it was a challenge of gastrointestinal fortitude.

Out of curiosity, I searched online to see if it was still a thing. To my surprise, it was not only still happening—it was scheduled for that very weekend, less than 48 hours after I’d land in Colorado. I would have little time to acclimate to the mile-high altitude, but how could I resist? This was too absurd—and hilarious—to pass up. After sitting over a dozen hours on airplanes, I wanted to do a long run that weekend anyway.

Saturday morning, I drove an hour from Fort Collins to the starting point in Denver: a Sam’s Club parking lot next to a Taco Bell. When I arrived, hundreds of people were already there—far more than the 150 who reportedly ran last year. Word had spread. TikTok and Instagram reels had done their magic, and even New Yorkers were posting about it.

Looking around, I realized I was definitely one of the oldest participants in the crowd. Most runners looked like they were in their 20s, many dressed in costumes or Taco Bell-themed outfits. A few wore hot sauce packet hats or taco costumes; others looked ready for a wedding—or a rave.

The event, it turns out, started years ago as a joke. Two Denver guys, Jason Romero and Dan Zolnikov, came up with the idea mid-run when one of them stopped at Taco Bell for a bathroom break. They joked about how it would be fun/funny to link multiple Taco Bells into a run. But somehow, their banter (I imagine) eventually turned from crazed laughter to thinking that this is actually a good idea. They made it happen, and what started as a prank became an annual tradition that’s now in its eighth year. 

Neither of them works for Taco Bell—I think they work in law—and despite repeated attempts to contact the company, they’ve never received even a peep of a response. Understandably, Taco Bell wants no part of sponsoring an event that involves puking, pooping, and 31 miles of potential liability. They were already getting a perfect deal: free publicity, a viral event, one that had been organized organically by “fans” and not from a marketing department. Why would they want ruin that?

The publicity was so much that this year, 1,500 people signed up and around 700 actually showed up. It’s a grassroots event in every sense—no permits, no entry fees, and no corporate backing. Just pure, chaotic fun.

Before the start, Romero gave pre-race announcements: the course was totally open to traffic, safety was paramount, Pepto Bismol was prohibited, vomiting meant disqualification, and defecation anywhere but inside a Taco Bell or a Washington Park bathroom would also be grounds for a DQ. It was the kind of briefing you’d never hear at the Boston Marathon.

He reviewed the rules, which included:

• Hit all ten Taco Bells.
• Eat a Taco Bell item at nine of them.
• By Taco Bell #4, eat a Chalupa Supreme or Crunchwrap Supreme.
• By #8, eat a Burrito Supreme or Nachos Bell Grande.
• Finish under 11 hours.
• Keep all receipts and wrappers as “proof.”

Zolnikov added one observation: “Everyone who showed up is low IQ.” The crowd roared with laughter, knowing he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Another thing you’d never hear at any of the World Marathon Majors: an anthem about tacos. This was performed by a group called Hot Sauce, a band so new that “we didn’t even have a name two days ago.”

Their song was beautiful—one that you can listen to in its entirety below.

The race began at 7:30 a.m. in the drive-through lane of the first Taco Bell. Being intent to actually race this ultramarathon, more-or-less, I lined up at the front—right next to a group of young women in wedding attire. In contrast to my intentions, I figured they were there more for social media glory than for speed. If that were indeed the case, it worked—you can see both them and me at 0:16 in the following video.

My plan was to beat the rush, knowing the lines at later Taco Bells would get impossibly long. So, naturally, I started out way too fast. My Garmin Epix Pro watch—which I had downloaded the race course onto the night before and used for navigation—was showing 7:00 per mile pace for what was, after all, a 50K run.

My food strategy was simple: start with small items like soft tacos or, better yet, the Cinnabon Delights I had learned about the night before. They were bite-sized sugar bombs that looked to be donut holes’ cinnamon-infused cousins—quick to eat, easy to digest, and decent fuel for running.

At Taco Bell #2, I downed two Cinnabon Delights and some water before heading out again. Smooth sailing so far. But at Taco Bell #3, things got complicated. To get one of the big food requirements out of the way early, I ordered a Chalupa Supreme—and I didn’t even know what that was. Initially, I suspected it was a burrito. Turns out it’s basically a deep-fried taco shell stuffed with regret. I wasted many minutes before finally finding it listed under Tacos on a touchscreen ordering machine inside the restaurant.

By Taco Bell #4, chaos had erupted. The store was overrun with not only some runners who had caught up to me, but with a hundred pre-orders that were bagged and resting on their take-out counter. I waited nearly 12 minutes just to order my food. I there and then realized that I was not going to be able to efficiently order food in person at any of the remaining Taco Bells. So during the wait, I downloaded the Taco Bell app and started placing mobile orders for the rest of the stops at least 30 minutes in advance. Modern problems require modern solutions.

The route after that got scenic—past Sloan’s Lake, Empower Field at Mile High (where the Denver Broncos play their home football games), along the South Platte River, and eventually toward downtown Denver, skirting the State Capitol. Funny how I’ve never seen that building even once in my life until now. I’ll have to return sometime the next time I’m in Denver.

At Taco Bell #5, my pre-order was waiting. As I sat down to inhale more Cinnabon Delights, two friendly guys wielding big cameras approached.

They were from Rocky Mountain PBS and asked if they could interview me. Between bites, I told them I’d just come back from Spain, confirmed that the event was happening while web surfing at an airport, and decided to join on a whim. My “training” was comprised of “fasting for 16 hours before the event so that I would have room in my stomach for all the food.” I also mentioned that I’d run the Berlin Marathon a couple of weeks earlier, so I was “in reasonable shape”—though at that point, I confessed this was feeling a bit harder. 

You can actually see me 3:30 (also 0:20) into their video below, speaking at lightning speed before dashing out the door.

At Taco Bell #6, I tackled a Burrito Supreme. It was dense but manageable—sort of a Mexican ultrarunner’s version of an energy bar, perhaps. Thankfully, it was only about twice the size of a classic Taco Bell bean burrito and nowhere the size of, say, a burrito from Chipotle or Qdoba. 

Unfortunately, the employees were swamped with orders from the drive-thru and the app, so I didn’t bother them for a water cup. As a result, I was parched a couple of miles later. I had to detour into a Safeway, grab a 20-ounce Gatorade, and carry it the next several miles like it was a relay baton.

By now, other ultrarunners—hydration packs, compression socks, and all—were catching up. One of them screamed across the street, “You doing the Taco Bell Ultra?” I shouted back, “Yeah, are you?” and he remarked to his two buddies that I wasn’t even wearing a hydration pack. I thought about explaining that I had just stopped at a Safeway for Gatorade, but instead just yelled, “well, I figured we were going to stop every three miles!”

By Taco Bell #9, I was tired but surprisingly intact. My stomach had handled everything fine, aside from a brief stomach cramps after the Chalupa Supreme earlier in the day. My pace had slowed to about 10 minutes per mile, but I was still making decent progress.

At the final Taco Bell, I ran into the store to claim and chuck my last order of Cinnabon Delights, ran back outside to check in with my wrappers and receipts, and officially finished. I was the 27th runner to sign in. Out of 700 participants, that felt pretty good—especially since I did not have a “crew” procuring and handing off food to their friends at various Taco Bells, like many of the other runners had.

A volunteer handed me a “medal”: a Taco Bell Diablo sauce packet taped to a ribbon. Perfect.

Driving back to Fort Collins, I realized how satisfying the whole experience was. Most ultramarathons reward you with a meal afterward, but this one was the meal. My stomach had survived, my legs held up, and for once, I didn’t need to think about refueling after the race—I’d been doing that every few miles.

The Taco Bell 50K was equal parts ridiculous and brilliant—a testament to how far runners (and the internet) will go for a story worth telling. And now, every time I see a Taco Bell, I don’t think of just the only type of food my friends and I could afford back in high school. I think of that sunny day in Denver, running on sugar, sodium, and sheer stupidity absurdity. 

Race Data

Total distance, including getting lost and the Safeway detour: 32.1 miles (51.6 kilometers)
Total time: 6h10m
Moving time: 4h58m (9:18/mile or 5:47/kilometer)

Food I Consumed During the Race

• Taco Bell #1: nothing
• Taco Bell #2: 2 Cinnabon Delights
• Taco Bell #3: 1 Chalupa Supreme
• Taco Bell #4: 2 Cinnabon Delights
• Taco Bell #5: 2 Cinnabon Delights
• Taco Bell #6: 1 Burrito Supreme
• Safeway: 1 20-ounce bottle of Gatorade
• Taco Bell #7: 2 Cinnabon Delights
• Taco Bell #8: 4 Cinnabon Delights
• Taco Bell #9: 2 Cinnabon Delights
• Taco Bell #10: 2 Cinnabon Delights, 1 medium Coke

News Articles

• Rocky Mountain PBS: Scenes from Denver’s taco-fueled ultramarathon
• AMK Station: Desafío de ultramaratón de Taco Bell: los corredores consumen 9 comidas a lo largo de 50 kilómetros

Copycat Events

Given the viral nature of this event, it’s not surprising that some copycat events of the original Denver one have emerged.

After finishing this writeup, I have learned about the following:

• Minneapolis: Twin Cities Taco Bell 50K
• D.C., Alexandria and Arlington: Taco Bell DC 50K
• San Diego: Taco Bell Ultra 50K and then some

As with the original race, Taco Bell is not sponsoring or involved with the organization of any of the others. At this rate, they won’t even need a marketing department in a few years!