The air was frigid on the walk toward the Belltower Saturday morning. The eastern portion of Hillsborough Street was blocked off, with people in costumes you typically only see on Halloween congregating around a makeshift starting line  The crowd waited in anticipation, and then it happened. The horn sounded, signaling the start of the 12th annual Krispy Kreme Challenge. 

The horde of people moves forward as the crowd slowly thins. Competitive runners take off at an Olympic-like pace, as they race toward the Krispy Kreme two-and-a-half miles away on Peace Street. I linger toward the middle of the pack listening to the sound of 8,000 pairs of shoes rhythmically hitting the pavement, making their way downtown.  

1 Mile: Some individuals begin to slow their paces as they realized a mile is a lot longer than they remembered. Three racers dressed as a mariachi band run by, followed closely by a gladiator playing the theme for “Rocky.” I’m making pretty good time, or at least I think I am. My hands are cold, but that’s nothing I can’t handle for the time being. 

2 Miles: We pass a construction crew downtown as they look on in bewilderment. Thousands of people wearing costumes of all sorts and screaming is really a sight to see on a Saturday morning in February. At this point, I’m doing pretty well, my confidence is rising — this is going to be a piece of cake. Keep in mind this is my first time participating in the challenge, so little did I know what was in store for me in less than a mile.

2.5 Miles: We’ve made it onto Peace Street. Krispy Kreme is within sight. Then, someone comes running by, but from the other direction. It’s the lead runner, and he’s already on his way back to the Belltower. He ate those doughnuts in fewer than five minutes. Is that even humanly possible? Now I start to gain confidence thinking I could down the doughnuts in the same amount of time. I was wrong. 

I finally arrive at Krispy Kreme and grab my dozen and immediately shove a doughnut into my mouth. I’ve had hot and fresh doughnuts from Krispy Kreme many times before, but the dozen that was given to me was anything but. These doughnuts were cold and unappealing. I look around and see water cups scattered about at the feet of runners cramming glazed doughnuts into their mouths at an alarming rate. I grab my next two doughnuts and flatten them together to try and eat them quicker and use the same method for the rest of the dozen. 

At six doughnuts, it starts to hit me — that feeling of regret. Why did I do this? Who thought this was a good idea? My hands lay covered in glaze, my mouth profusely chewing as I keep eating. I get up to grab some more water cups, and I dry heave. No. No way. I’m not going to throw up. I grabbed four water cups and downed another four doughnuts. Then, a second dry heave occurs, only this one was far more intense than the last. I need to start running to get my mind off of vomit. I ditch the last two doughnuts and head back toward the Belltower. 

3 Miles: I’m at a much slower pace now. The doughnuts jostle in my stomach with every step I take. I pass runners in a zombie-like state as they battle the urge to vomit. I look down at my glaze-covered hands, and I realize they’ve gone numb from the cold. My sweat has turned to sugar.

4 Miles: At this point, I’m walking more often than I’m running. Other racers around me have adopted the same strategy. We alternate running, walking and vomiting while spectators watch from apartment buildings and condominiums sipping on mimosas and relishing in the fact that they were smart enough not to participate in the challenge. 

I make the final turn onto Hillsborough, and I muster every ounce of energy left in me to press on to the finish line. I pass a group of spectators with a sign that reads “Free Mimosas,” and I consider it, but only for a second. The Belltower slowly rises over the horizon, and I’m overjoyed at the site of the finish line. I run through some vomit, and I don’t even care. The race clock read 1:11:37 as I cross the finish line. I’ve completed the Krispy Kreme Challenge.

In hindsight, it may have been a stupid decision to run the race. But with that being said, I’ve never had more fun while on the verge of puking in my entire life.