Exclusive | Meet the ‘special type of idiot’ running the Taco Bell ultramarathon — where competitors eat at the chain 9 times during the race

Move over Dunkin’ — America runs on Taco Bell. Or at least a certain subset of iron-gutted ultra-runners does. 

On Saturday, Oct. 5, about 1,200 registrants are expected to toe the line at the eighth annual International Taco Bell 50K Ultramarathon, a queasy urban adventure that challenges the quads and the colon in equal measure. 

The Denver-based race, which is neither endorsed by or affiliated with Taco Bell corporate, invites what one participant calls a “special type of idiot” to run the 31-mile course and eat at nine out of 10 Taco Bells along the way.

Runners must order a real food item — drinks don’t count — and consume a Chalupa Supreme (a cheese-laden flatbread-encased taco) or Crunchwrap Supreme (an excessive mix between a burrito and a quesadilla) by stop number four. 

By the eighth stop, these fast foodies must also devour a Burrito Supreme or Nachos Bellgrande — the latter being a 750-calorie bomb of beef, beans, nacho cheese sauce and sour cream.

They’re required to do it all within 11 hours — and without on-course performance-enhancing drugs like Pepto-Bismol and Alka-Seltzer. While the “official” rules don’t forbid vomiting, for full street cred, you’ve got to keep it down.

But ultimately, there are no winners. There are “survivors.”

The point? To do something, the event website says, “completely stupid.”

That mission was appetizing to Nathan Giusti, 38, a software engineer in Brooklyn. He took up running in his 20s, lost 75 pounds and became the kind of person who loves running so much he bursts into “mini karaoke sessions” while doing it.

“I’m just singing along to my music and enjoying myself and having a good time,” he told The Post. 

So when he came across the Taco Bell 50K on social media, he signed up. Though he’s completed 10 to 15 ultramarathons — or any race over the marathon’s 26.2 miles — the Taco Bell 50K is nacho average ultra. 

“I like the little bit of nonseriousness, the goofiness to it,” Giusti said. “And as a former fat kid, I’m great at eating. So I really feel like this is conjoining two of my really great skill sets.” 

Humble beginnings 

Dan Zolnikov was training for his first 50-mile ultra in 2016 when his running buddy stopped in a Taco Bell to use the bathroom. 

Typically, the duo passed through Denver farmer’s markets for food, drink and digestive relief during long runs, but this visit sparked a delusional thought: What if they dined-and-dashed at the stoner-favorite franchises while training instead? 

“It’s a terrible idea,” Zolnikov thought. Their run club agreed. “We should never do anything like that,” they said. 

But two years later, the joke hadn’t died — so fellow ultra-runner Jason Romero held Zolnikov’s feet to the griddle: “I’m tired of just talking about this thing,” he said. “We need to do it.” 

Zolnikov obliged. He drafted “rules” drawn from famed ultras like the Hard Rock 100, in which the direction changes from counterclockwise to clockwise every year, and the Barkley Marathons, which requires competitors to tear out pages from planted books along the way. (The Taco Bell 50K asks for wrappers and receipts instead.) 

While registration is free, entrants must shell out for their own oily orders — right next to more sane, less sweaty customers.

That first year, in 2018, seven people showed up; five “survived.” Two finishers had never run an ultra, and one of them — Romero — was blind. “Within that first year, we already had this great diversity of folks who finished,” Zolnikov said. 

Over the next few years, the field stayed small. But in 2023, after a new unofficial race director started posting about it on social media, about 50 athletes arrived.

Last year, participation was in the hundreds. And this year, thanks in large part to a few viral TikToks, about 1,200 chalupa chasers across 40 states have RSVP’d.

“The origin is just that it was a spur of the moment, ‘What if we do this?’ and then naturally it snowballed into, ‘We have to do this,’” Zolnikov said. “And now it’s turned into this tsunami and force of nature.” 

Even professional ultrarunner Sage Canaday has joined the fiesta, nabbing the course record with a time of 4:28 last year.

Training for tacos 

Vivi Armacost, a 25-year-old product manager in Manhattan, is the angelic face behind one popular TikTok video about the challenge. 

The farthest she’s run was during last year’s New York City Marathon, but she signed up for the Taco Bell 50K this year after an invite from a Denver-based friend.

“Running a regular ultramarathon or running this one? This one’s obviously way better,” the self-proclaimed “Taco Bell lover and supporter” told The Post. 

Plus, as a budding comedian, the experience, if nothing else, will be good material. “Everything I do is just because it’s so hilarious,” she said.

To train, Armacost spent the summer jogging between Manhattan Taco Bells to rack up mileage and ultra-processed calories.

To train, Armacost spent the summer jogging between Manhattan Taco Bells to rack up mileage and ultra-processed calories.

“I’m not going for time, so I’m really just focusing on being able to digest Taco Bell and run after,” she says in one TikTok post between bites of a Doritos Locos Taco and strides along the West Side Highway.

The strategy is a smart one, according to Kim Schwabenbauer, a professional triathlete-turned-sports dietitian and exercise scientist. While normally she’d advise against fat (cheese, sour cream), protein (ground beef) and fiber (beans) during an endurance race, in this case-o, there’s no way around it.  

“You have to get used to the feeling of running with a full stomach, and you’re not going to have time to digest in between these stops,” Schwabenbauer said.