Running News Daily

Every fall, a group of Denver runners celebrates National Taco Day by running 31 miles using the fast food Mexican chain as aid stations

Imagine you’re 12 miles into a running race and you arrive at an aid station, where, instead of refueling with energy gels, you’re required to eat a 540-calorie Taco Bell Crunchwrap Supreme. 

Yes, that’s one of the mid-race snacks you’ll need to consume if you want to be an official finisher of a bizarre and spirited, 31-mile run through the greater Denver area.

Welcome, if you dare, to the annual Taco Bell 50K Ultramarathon. 

What started as an offhand suggestion on a Saturday morning training run has now become a stupid and fun gastro-intensive ultra-distance event with 10 “aid station” stops at various Taco Bell restaurants. But, as silly as it seems, it’s all about sharing the community of running, says founder Dan Zolnikov. 

Held every October for the past six years, and loosely coinciding with National Taco Day (yes, that’s a thing), it’s an unconventional and entirely unsanctioned fun run that has several ridiculous rules—a.k.a. the semi-optional Taco Bell 50K Commandments that are printed on the back of the event’s race bibs—including the need to eat something from the Taco Bell menu at every stop. 

While that could mean consuming something small at most of the restaurant visits—like, say, an order of Nacho Fries or Cinnamon Twists—the fourth and eighth aid stations demand a higher level of gastrointestinal fortitude. At those stops, participants must opt for one of the larger and more calorie-intensive “Supreme” menu items, such as a Crunchwrap Supreme, Burrito Supreme, or Nacho Cheese Doritos Locos Tacos Supreme.

“I always tell people it’s fun until the fourth stop,” says Zolnikov, a Denver lawyer and avid ultrarunner who started the event in 2018. “Most of those that are new to it are like, ‘Wait, I’ve gotta eat a Chalupa Supreme or a Crunchwrap Supreme and then keep running for almost 20 more miles?’ And we laugh and say, ‘Yep! That’s what we do.’ Honestly, that’s when a lot of people are like, ‘I think I’m just going to go home.’”

Running the Taco Bell 50K is what many ultrarunners call out-of-the-ordinary Type 2 fun—something that conceptually sounds fun before and afterwards, but in actuality is not quite that fun while it’s happening. But word has gotten out and it’s been compelling enough to have grown to a record 40 participants this year. There’s no entry fee, but each runner is expected to pay for their own food. 

While the Taco Bell chain of 7,000 Mexican-themed fast food restaurants isn’t a sponsor of the event—and the event organizers explicitly remind participants of that—a Denver-based Taco Bell franchise group agreed to open one of its locations early this year to accommodate the 7 A.M. start and welcome runners with free breakfast burritos, thanks, in part, to the persistent prodding of Jason Romero, one of the event’s original instigators.

Not just a zany group run, the Taco Bell 50K is rooted in ultrarunning lore and takes cues from some of the country’s most famous races. Not only does the course alternate between clockwise and counterclockwise every other year—a la Colorado’s Hardrock 100—it also requires runners to keep their Taco Bell food wrappers as an ode to how runners need to tear a page out of hidden books on the Barkleys Marathon course.

While Leadville 100 luminary Ken Chlouber has famously motivated runners for 40 years by saying “You’re better than you think you are, you can do more than you think you can,” Romero says the motto of the Taco Bell 50K is that “you’re hungrier than you think you are, and you can eat more than you think you can.” 

How does a convoluted event like the Taco Bell 50K get started in the first place? At a farmer’s market, of course. 

During long Saturday morning training runs in the spring of 2016, Zolnikov and running buddy Mike Oliva developed a habit of refueling by eating fresh, Colorado-grown or locally crafted food at Denver farmer’s markets. On one run, Oliva randomly stopped to use a bathroom at a Taco Bell and suggested to Zolnikov they should consider changing their route the next weekend and make Taco Bells their impromptu aid stations. 

“As soon as he said it, we laughed but then there was this awkward, five-minute silence between the two of us,” Zolnikov recalls. “We were just kind of jogging along and not really saying anything, but he said it so it was out there. I think we realized it was a stupid idea, but, as ultrarunners, we kind of wanted to do it. So I asked him, ‘Do you want to do that next week?’ And he was like, ‘No dude, just forget I said anything. Let’s just forget it.’” 

Although the idea never conjured up mouth-watering excitement, the odd craving to do it never went away. The banter about the idea continued on their Denver running Facebook group, as well as at weekly training runs of the Denver chapter of Achilles International, a running club in which runners with disabilities are guided on weekly training runs and weekend races. 

Oliva started that group in 2013, and it has met for weekly runs at Denver’s Washington Park every Monday night for the past 10 years, developing an easy-going camaraderie between guides and runners. 

“This talk about running to Taco Bells went on for about two years, and finally I got sick of hearing the trash talk, and just said, ‘That’s it, we’re doing it,” says Romero, 53, a regular Achilles runner who is legally blind. “And as soon as I said it, it kind of got silent. But I’m not about talking, I’m about doing. So I said, ‘You put together a course and we’re going to do this.” 

Within a few days Zolnikov had plotted out a course using Google Maps and Strava, connecting nine Taco Bells in the Denver metropolitan area in a 31.52-mile loop. (To make it an even 10 aid stations, the event starts and finishes at the same Taco Bell on the southwest side of the city.) And then, a few weeks later, in October 2018, seven courageous runners gave it a go and five finished in about seven and a half hours. (The other two tapped out, waving the white napkin of surrender midway through the route.)

Although it was mostly a celebratory season-ending fun run among a core group of friends for the first few years, it has garnered more interest as word of mouth spread. A few of the Achilles runners have joined in the fun every year.

“It’s not a glamorous route,” says Ben Garrett, who took over as race director after running the Taco Bell 50K for the first time in 2022. “It’s kind of what you’d call an urban ultra through the ‘scenic’ parts of Denver.”

Garrett, a 25-year-old structural engineer, was training for his first marathon when he was cajoled into joining the Taco Bell 50K—despite never having run more than 16 miles. He joined willingly and finished, giving him a boost of confidence heading into the Disney World Marathon three months later.

“It was great to know I could run that far before my marathon, especially knowing I had a stomach of steel after that,” Garrett says with a laugh. “But it also inspired me to run more. After my first marathon, I did another marathon and then a couple of 50Ks. Now I’m hooked for life.”

There are no winners, and there are no prizes. Instead over the years, runners have piled on extra gastrointestinal challenges for extra satiation. 

There’s the Baja Blast Challenge, which entails only imbibing two liters of Mountain Dew Baja Blast during the run, and then there’s the Diablo Challenge, which consists of oozing a packet of Taco Bell’s next-level hot and spicy Diablo Sauce on every single food item throughout the run. (By the way, two of the more precarious event rules state that no Pepto Bismal, Alka Seltzer, Pepcid AC or Mylanta will be allowed on the course, and the bathroom stops are only allowed at the Taco Bell restaurants.)

As if consuming 1,500 calories during the run wasn’t enough, some runners have added their own challenges—such as devouring a Voodoo Doughnut during the middle of it—and many runners engage in the Diablo Shooter Challenge, which is simply sucking down a packet of the restaurant’s fiery hot sauce to conclude the run. But to be fair, one of the forgiving commandments is the notion that every runner can take a mulligan and skip eating at one of the stops.

“It’s just meant to be a fun run,” says Denver runner Bill Garner, who has participated in five of the six Taco Bell 50Ks. “It’s the one ultra where you’re just really out there for the camaraderie. I don’t really feel like anybody’s racing, although I’m sure somebody’s going to show up one year and try to run it all-out. But for most of us, it’s a big camaraderie run.” 

It is mostly about the community spirit that pervades running, but for Garner, the Taco Bell 50K inspired him to run farther and pursue new running goals. Prior to participating in the first event in 2018, the 53-year-old cybersecurity technology specialist and strict vegetarian primarily ran marathons and half marathons on the roads. Since then, his focus has become ultra-distance races on trails, and believe it or not, he typically relies on cold Taco Bell bean-and-cheese burritos in his aid station resupplies.

“It’s the perfect ultra fuel,” says Garner, who consumed numerous Taco Bell delicacies enroute to finishing the Kansas Rails to Trails 100-miler in 2019. 

“I thought these ultrarunners were crazy, and I jumped into this because it was crazy, but then it changed my life,” he says. “I had never run an ultramarathon before I did the Taco Bell run, and I definitely learned that, if you just keep eating, you can keep going. That’s what ultras are all about.” 

A few years ago, Portland, Oregon, runner Bobi Jo Ousnamer befriended several Colorado runners in an online forum while training for the Pikes Peak Marathon. They told her about the Taco Bell 50K and asked her to come out and run it in 2019, but she couldn’t fit it into her schedule because she was training for her first 100-miler. 

However, she made it out for the 2020 edition, amid the Covid-19 pandemic. (That year, a small group of runners ran through Taco Bell drive-thrus to order their food because the inside dining areas weren’t open.) During the run, she admitted she had devised her own Taco Bell 50K course in Portland. That immediately sparked interest in doing Denver and Portland events on back-to-back days, which they finally pulled off in 2022 on the day of the Portland Marathon. 

That event included stops at seven Taco Bells and a marathon aid station a friend organized on her front lawn, where they devoured homemade breakfast tacos. Calling it the Double Deuce Challenge, it included 62 miles and 18 taco stops in two cities in less than 36 hours.

“I made the mistake of mentioning to Jason Romero that I had created a Portland course and he was like, ‘Oh my God, we’re doing a double!’” says Ousnamer, 34, who works as a juvenile public defender in Portland. “So for the fifth anniversary, he announced that we’d be doing this double. I think we all thought he was kind of joking, but as the months went on, he was like, ‘All right, I’ve got a plane ticket so we’re doing this.’ The Taco Bells are not as close together as the Denver ones and it’s hillier in Portland, so it was a bit of a bigger challenge. We were definitely feeling it on day two.”

Although the Taco Bell 50K has always meant to have been a low-key, end-of-the-season celebration for local runners, it’s continued to gain notoriety and to push the envelope of what’s possible. Runners in Texas and New Jersey have reached out about developing something similar, as have a couple of running clubs in Europe. Although the event details were typically only posted on Facebook when Zolnikov managed it, Garrett upped its visibility and inclusivity by developing an informational website with a link to the Strava map of the course.

Will the Taco Bell 50K continue to grow? 

“Honestly, I never wanted to see it start to begin with, but it’s kind of turned into this force of nature that’s bigger than me and bigger than Jason, and it’s become its own thing now,” Zolnikov says. “People can use it for whatever they want it to be, and if someone wants to get bragging rights for racing through it as fast as they can, go for it. My thing has always been about getting together and running, and, OK, ‘Let’s do this kind of dumb thing, and let’s have fun doing it.”

Long before he became the fastest man in history, before the Olympic gold medals, world records, and global superstardom, Usain Bolt was simply a gifted teenager with extraordinary speed and limitless potential. In 2002, on the track at Kingston's National Stadium in Jamaica, the world witnessed the first chapter of a story that would forever change athletics.

At just 15 years old, Bolt lined up for the men's 200 metres at the World Junior Championships with the weight of expectation resting on young shoulders. Competing before a passionate home crowd, the Jamaican prodigy produced a performance that instantly captivated the athletics world. Crossing the finish line in 20.61 seconds, he became the youngest athlete ever to win the men's 200m title at the championships.

It was far more than a gold medal. It was the moment the world realised that a once-in-a-generation talent had arrived.

Bolt's victory in Kingston marked the beginning of one of the greatest careers in sporting history. Over the years that followed, he rewrote the record books, dominated the Olympic Games and World Championships, and transformed sprinting into a global spectacle through his breathtaking speed, infectious personality, and unrivalled confidence. His legacy continues to inspire young athletes across the globe, many of whom dream of following the same path he once began as a teenager.

This week, that dream comes alive once again as the World Athletics U20 Championships take centre stage at the iconic Hayward Field in Eugene, Oregon. The venue has already witnessed the birth of future superstars. In 2014, it was where Britain's Dina Asher-Smith and Uganda's Joshua Cheptegei captured their first global titles, launching careers that would later produce world championships, Olympic medals, and lasting legacies in athletics.

Twelve years later, another generation arrives in Eugene hoping to create its own defining moment.

Among the brightest young talents is Great Britain's Jake Odey-Jordan, the 200m bronze medallist from Lima who now owns the European U20 100m record after an astonishing 10.01-second performance. He enters the championships eager to build on his growing reputation as one of Europe's most exciting young sprinters.

The United States will look to Tate Taylor, who has already made history as the first American high school athlete to break the 20-second barrier for the 200 metres. Fresh from a Diamond League victory in a sensational 19.75 seconds, he arrives in Eugene carrying the momentum of one of the most remarkable junior seasons ever recorded.

Jamaica, the nation that introduced the world to Usain Bolt, will once again have high hopes through Shanoya Douglas. The talented sprinter has established herself as one of the championship's leading contenders after producing lifetime bests of 10.98 seconds for the 100m and 22.11 for the 200m this season.

History has repeatedly shown that the World U20 Championships are far more than a junior competition. They are often the first chapter in the careers of future Olympic champions, world record holders, and global icons. Every generation arrives with ambitious dreams, but only a select few leave having announced themselves to the world.

No one can say with certainty whether the next Usain Bolt will emerge this week. Greatness cannot be predicted, and legends are never manufactured. Yet every legendary career begins with a single breakthrough performance.

For Bolt, that defining moment came in Kingston in 2002.

Now, under the famous lights of Hayward Field, another group of gifted teenagers stands ready to chase history. Somewhere among them could be the next athlete whose name will inspire the world for years to come.

"An athlete cannot run with money in his pockets. He must run with hope in his heart and dreams in his head." More than seventy years after those words were spoken, they remain among the most powerful messages ever shared in distance running. They are often quoted as simple motivation, but behind them lies a remarkable story of sacrifice, courage, conviction, and an unwavering belief that true greatness is never measured by financial reward.

Few athletes have left a legacy as enduring as Emil Zátopek. Known around the world as "The Czech Locomotive" for his relentless determination and unmistakable running style, he redefined what was possible in endurance racing. His legendary performance at the 1952 Olympic Games in Helsinki still ranks among the greatest achievements in athletics history. In the space of just nine days, he captured Olympic gold in the 5,000 meters, the 10,000 meters, and, incredibly, the marathon—a race he had never attempted before.

Yet the world in which Zátopek competed was vastly different from today's professional athletics landscape. During the 1950s, elite sport officially operated under strict amateur rules. Olympic athletes were forbidden from accepting prize money or earning a living directly from competition, although unofficial financial arrangements existed in many sports. Zátopek himself never raced for appearance fees or lucrative prize purses. Instead, he served as an officer in the Czechoslovak People's Army, receiving a military salary while representing his country. Running brought him glory, but not personal wealth.

It was within that environment that his famous words carried genuine meaning. For Zátopek, success was never driven by the promise of money. He believed the greatest performances were fueled by hope, ambition, discipline, and the courage to pursue dreams that seemed impossible. Those qualities, rather than financial incentives, formed the foundation of lasting excellence.

With the benefit of history, his words carry even greater significance. In 1968, during the Prague Spring, Zátopek openly supported democratic reforms in Czechoslovakia. When the movement was crushed, he paid a heavy personal price for standing by his principles. He was stripped of his military rank, removed from public life, and forced into years of manual labor. The man who had once stood proudly atop the Olympic podium found himself performing physically demanding jobs, far removed from the stadiums where he had inspired millions.

His story reminds us that the values he expressed were not empty words crafted for public admiration. He lived by them, even when doing so came at enormous personal cost. His belief that hope and conviction mattered more than material rewards became evident not only in the races he won, but also in the hardships he endured with remarkable dignity.

Distance running has changed dramatically since Zátopek's era. Today's elite athletes compete in a fully professional sport where prize money, sponsorship contracts, appearance fees, and endorsement deals can be worth millions. Success on the track and roads now offers opportunities that were unimaginable during the age of amateur competition. Professionalism has transformed the sport, allowing athletes to train full-time, access world-class coaching and sports science, and build financially secure careers.

Yet despite these changes, the essence of Zátopek's message has never lost its relevance.

Every elite runner naturally hopes to earn a good living from years of dedication and sacrifice. There is nothing wrong with financial success, and the rewards available today have elevated the standard of competition across the world. But history consistently shows that money alone is rarely enough to sustain greatness. The athletes whose careers endure the longest are often those driven by an inner passion to improve, to test their limits, and to chase excellence for its own sake. Financial rewards become the result of that commitment, not the reason for it.

When competition is motivated solely by wealth, its deeper purpose can fade. But when an athlete races with genuine belief, relentless determination, and an unwavering dream, extraordinary performances often follow naturally.

That is why Emil Zátopek's words continue to resonate across generations. His legacy extends far beyond Olympic medals and world records. It lives in every runner who laces up their shoes with a goal that cannot be measured in dollars, every athlete who refuses to surrender when the race becomes painful, and every competitor who understands that the greatest victories begin long before the finish line.

The economics of distance running may have evolved beyond recognition, but the heart of the sport remains unchanged. Every athlete still arrives at the starting line carrying something far more valuable than money—hope in their heart and dreams in their head. Those invisible qualities have always been, and will always remain, the true fuel of greatness.

Winning a major championship is never just about crossing the finish line first. Behind every gold medal lies a carefully crafted race plan, and Josh Kerr's unforgettable Commonwealth Games triumph in Glasgow was a perfect example of tactical brilliance meeting extraordinary finishing speed.

While the final time of 3:54.12 for the mile will be remembered as the official result, the split times reveal a much deeper story—one of patience, precision, and devastating acceleration when it mattered most.

Kerr resisted any temptation to force the pace from the gun. Instead, he settled into a controlled rhythm, allowing the opening stages to unfold naturally. His first four 100-metre segments—14.9, 15.1, 15.3 and 15.1 seconds—brought him through 400 metres in 60.4 seconds, a measured opening that conserved valuable energy while keeping him firmly in contention.

The second lap remained equally composed. Passing 500 metres in 15.3 seconds before recording splits of 15.7, 16.2 and 15.4, Kerr reached 800 metres in 2:03.0. The pace had eased, but that was exactly where the Scottish star wanted to be. Rather than chasing early speed, he was setting the stage for a decisive finish.

Everything changed after halfway.

Kerr gradually increased the tempo with smooth, controlled acceleration. His 900-metre and 1,000-metre splits of 15.2 and 14.9 seconds signalled that the race was beginning to stretch. He then surged through 1,100 metres in 14.3 seconds before covering the next 100 metres in just 13.4 seconds to reach 1,200 metres in 3:00.8.

From there, the home crowd witnessed championship running at its finest.

Instead of fading, Kerr became even stronger. He reeled off three consecutive 100-metre splits of 13.4, 13.4 and 12.8 seconds, dismantling the field with every stride. His final 100 metres were covered in a stunning 12.5 seconds, sealing an emphatic victory and sending the Glasgow crowd into celebration.

The progression of his race was remarkable. After opening with relaxed 15-second splits, Kerr transformed the closing stages into a demonstration of world-class speed endurance. His ability to accelerate continuously over the final 600 metres highlighted not only exceptional fitness but also supreme confidence in his race plan.

Championship middle-distance racing is rarely about producing the fastest possible time from the start. More often, it rewards athletes who understand when to conserve energy and when to unleash everything they have left. Kerr executed that philosophy to perfection.

His split chart paints the picture of a runner who never panicked, never wasted effort, and saved his greatest weapon for the closing stages. It was a textbook display of patience followed by relentless aggression—a combination that turned a tactical race into a memorable Commonwealth gold medal performance.

For aspiring middle-distance runners, Kerr's Glasgow masterpiece offers an important lesson: the strongest finish often belongs not to the athlete who runs hardest from the gun, but to the one who knows exactly when to make their move. On home soil, Josh Kerr timed that move to perfection, producing a performance that will stand as one of the defining moments of the championships.

At just nine years old, Oliver Smith has achieved something extraordinary—not by chasing records or medals, but by proving that determination, compassion, and consistency can create a life-changing impact.

Hailing from Wombwell, on the outskirts of Barnsley, Oliver set himself a remarkable challenge at the beginning of the year. Rather than attempting a single marathon, he decided to complete the equivalent distance of nine marathons over several months. From January 1 to April 26, the young runner covered an incredible 380 kilometres, breaking the distance into manageable daily runs suitable for a child his age.

His routine was built on dedication. Saturdays were reserved for parkrun events, Sundays for junior parkrun, while the remaining kilometres were steadily accumulated throughout the week. Averaging approximately 3.3 kilometres each day, Oliver never lost sight of the goal that inspired every step.

The challenge carried deep personal meaning. Last summer, Oliver's father, Tom Smith, suffered a devastating health setback after losing most of the vision in one eye. Medical examinations revealed a 4-centimetre meningioma wrapped around his optic nerve, leading to a complex 12-hour operation at the Royal Hallamshire Hospital in Sheffield.

Throughout the family's difficult journey, The Brain Tumour Charity provided invaluable guidance, support, and reassurance. Grateful for the help his family received, Oliver decided he wanted to give back in the most meaningful way he could. He launched a fundraising campaign with an initial goal of raising £2,000 to support others facing similar challenges.

What followed exceeded everyone's expectations.

Oliver brought his incredible fundraising challenge to a memorable conclusion at the Mini London Marathon, finishing on the very same day his mother, Hannah Smith, completed her first-ever London Marathon. It was a fitting family celebration of courage, resilience, and perseverance.

By the time Oliver crossed the finish line, donations had soared beyond £16,500—more than eight times his original target. His remarkable achievement captured the hearts of supporters, demonstrating how one young boy's determination could unite an entire community behind an important cause.

For Oliver, however, the journey is far from over. Inspired by the overwhelming support and the difference his efforts have made, he has already begun working toward his next fundraising challenge.

His story serves as a powerful reminder that age is no barrier to making a meaningful difference. Sometimes, the greatest acts of courage are measured not by speed or distance, but by the willingness to take one small step after another for the benefit of others.

Oliver Smith's inspiring journey is more than a fundraising success—it is a testament to the strength of family, the power of kindness, and the extraordinary impact that can begin with the simplest decision to help.

Sometimes the smallest opportunity creates the greatest triumph, and Jamaica's Navasky Anderson proved exactly that with a stunning performance to capture the men's 800m title at the 2026 Commonwealth Games in Glasgow.

Less than 24 hours after scraping into the final by the slimmest of margins, Anderson produced the race of his life, surging to victory in 1:45.33 to complete one of the most remarkable comeback stories of the championships. His gold medal was not only a reward for exceptional talent but also for courage, determination, and unwavering belief when everything was on the line.

The journey to the top nearly ended in the semifinals. Locked in an intense battle with England's Max Burgin for the final qualification place, Anderson threw himself across the finish line in a dramatic dive, stopping the clock at 1:45.38. That desperate effort earned him the last available place in the final as the fastest non-automatic qualifier, keeping his Commonwealth dream alive by the narrowest of margins.

With another chance in his hands, the Jamaican made sure it counted.

In a fiercely contested final, Anderson displayed outstanding tactical awareness and patience throughout the opening stages before unleashing a devastating finishing kick down the home straight. His perfectly timed acceleration left the rest of the field with no answer as he crossed the finish line first, securing a memorable Commonwealth crown and one of Jamaica's standout victories of the Games.

Australia's Luke Boyes delivered an impressive performance to claim the silver medal in 1:45.93, while Kenya's Wyclife Kinyamal battled strongly to take bronze in 1:46.12 after another highly competitive championship race.

Anderson's unforgettable triumph will be remembered as one of the defining moments of Glasgow 2026—a powerful reminder that championships are not always won by the fastest qualifier, but often by the athlete who refuses to surrender. From a fearless dive that kept his hopes alive to a brilliant gold-medal performance less than a day later, the Jamaican wrote one of the most inspiring chapters of these Commonwealth Games.

Men's 800m Final Results

1. Navasky Anderson (Jamaica) — 1:45.33

2. Luke Boyes (Australia) — 1:45.93

3. Wyclife Kinyamal (Kenya) — 1:46.12

Navasky Anderson arrived in the final as the last man to qualify, but he left Glasgow as the Commonwealth champion—a remarkable transformation that perfectly captures the unpredictable beauty of championship athletics.