Golf is not typically seen in the pantheon of endurance feats. Running until your shoelaces fuse or wading through icy water for hours—those get the headlines. But swing after swing, for a day and a half, with only a few five-minute respites? That’s a different flavor of resolve. And yet, that’s exactly what played out on the green stretches of Long Island, where Kelechi Ezihie found himself proving that persistence has a handicap of precisely zero.

Setting the Record, Then Chasing It in Real Time

Ezihie began his challenge at Huntington Crescent Club, eyeing the minimum 24-hour mark required by Guinness World Records to establish a new marathon golf category. As outlined by UPI, he teed off at 6 p.m. on Sunday. The plot twist arrived courtesy of a well-timed family phone call: as CBS News New York showcased, Ezihie’s sister discovered mid-attempt that a British golfer had recently logged 32 hours in Norway, a development that unfolded just as Ezihie was preparing for what he thought was the home stretch. Suddenly, 24 hours wouldn’t cut it—pivoting mid-putt, he set his sights on a higher bar.

Ezihie ultimately finished after an exhausting 36 hours, outpacing the Norwegian benchmark as well as his own original goal. CBS News New York notes he decided on the spot to carry on far past midnight, the challenge expanding in real time with the unexpected news.

Flashlights, Fatigue, and Glowing Golf Balls

A stunt like this calls for more than just stamina. With the sun long gone and the course shrouded in darkness, Ezihie and his friends adapted, deploying flashlights and glowing golf balls to illuminate the fairways. According to the Associated Press, as reported by Big Country Homepage, a rotating support crew filmed every stroke and served as official witnesses for Guinness’s rigorous verification process. Out on the course from Sunday evening to early Tuesday, Ezihie played the full 18 holes seven times—netting 126 holes total.

Guinness’s policies allow participants to stack short breaks, and Ezihie did just that, accumulating 20-minute rests after each round without breaking the rules. As the AP recounts, by the end of the marathon, Ezihie was limping heavily with “drenched and aching feet,” but pressed on: “I was willing to play ’til the wheels fell off, and I did just that… I enjoyed every round.” The image of a golfer, alone but for a few companions and the occasional glow of a phosphorescent ball, treading waterlogged grass at 4 a.m., has a certain mythical quality.

Golf for All: Breaking Stereotypes Beyond the Record

More than a personal endurance challenge, Ezihie frames his marathon as an effort to disrupt golf’s exclusive mystique. In a detail highlighted by UPI and echoed by the AP, he describes his goal as expanding the sport’s reach, especially to children and families in Nigeria, where he purchased land for a public golf course. “People assume that golf is for the wealthy and I’m trying to change that,” Ezihie told CBS News New York, adding that whatever one’s economic background—or any special needs—golf should be for all.

Ezihie’s background, as described by the AP, adds another wrinkle to the tale. He moved to the United States in 2008 and has only been golfing for two and a half years. Currently, he works as an assistant manager at an organization serving people with intellectual and developmental disabilities and autism. The outlet notes his hope that the sport’s values—discipline, calm under pressure—can resonate beyond country clubs. “I see how much golf has taught me, and I just believe that golf is a game that everybody should be able to get a chance to play,” Ezihie said, expressing a sort of hopefulness that feels as enduring as the feat itself.

The Limbo of Legends

As for the big question: will it “count”? Representatives from Guinness, as the AP reports, note that it will take between 12 to 15 weeks to validate all the evidence before naming an official record-holder. Until then, Ezihie’s accomplishment sits in the uniquely modern waiting room where extraordinary things pause for bureaucracy to catch up.

But record or not, is there something charming about chasing global rivals in real time, guided only by text messages and sibling-supplied updates? Somewhere in the margin between spectacle and athletic test, there’s a kind of performance art evolving—one man, a glow-in-the-dark ball, and the conviction to outlast not just his own fatigue, but a Norwegian challenger on another continent.

At some point you have to wonder: in the expanding universe of human endurance, are we simply running out of “firsts,” or are the parameters just getting funnier? For a sport not usually associated with sore feet and flashlights, Ezihie’s marathon brings a sense of the unexpected to the rolling greens of Long Island. Will someone else answer the call and set the bar at 40 hours? In the great game of peculiar milestones, the fairway seems wide open.