Why set a Guinness World Record?

Maybe it was the slow drift of the French Broad River that set Ben Wiggins to dreaming a couple of years ago. Floating in his kayak, he imagined hundreds of people taking to the water en masse and setting a world record.

He recounted the daydream for his buddies, who happen to be deeply involved with the river through their nonprofits and businesses. Back on land, they made a Facebook page to gauge the community's response to such a plan, which by this time entailed inner tubes and zombie costumes.

"Of course, this being Asheville, it got out of hand real quick," said Brennan Splain, one of Wiggins' co-conspirators who works at Asheville Adventure Rentals.

The Facebook page quickly attracted thousands of fans, far more than the water lovers anticipated. They had to move forward. Last September, 548 eligible participants took to the river in an attempt to break the Guinness World Record for "most people in a floating line."

They were shy of the record by just 86 people, but this year, the event is back. On Saturday, the zombies and their human associates (costumes aren't required) will take to the river for a second world record attempt.

The zombies must thwart a Taiwanese group of motorcycle enthusiasts if they are to pick up the title.

The Zombie Float joins more than 40,000 other world record contenders this year alone. Of those, only about 5 percent will achieve their goal, according to Kristen Ott, public relations manager at Guinness World Records. The process is rigorous and involves levels of verification.

"Anyone who attempts to break or set a Guinness World Records title must follow and comply with a strict set of guidelines, which are uniquely drafted for each record attempt," Ott said.

In other words, it's hard to be the world's best. But several Asheville area groups have achieved the feat, even when it required mass orders of sequin jumpsuits or using thermodynamics to engineer a one-of-a-kind cookie oven. Why do they do it?

"It's a heartwarming story of the undead trying to save a river," Wiggins said. "To me, it's just a cool, creative way to get people interested and enjoying the French Broad."

Cookies for days

Like Wiggins, Scott Blackwell got his idea for a world record outdoors. In 2002, he was the owner of Immaculate Baking, a cookie company in Hendersonville. He was on a run when he became determined to bake the world's biggest cookie.

He knew cookies. Around that time, the packaged dough company he started in his garage was doing $2 million to $3 million a year worth of business.

After his run, he went straight to a friend's house and looked up the record holder. A New Zealand bakery held the title for an 81-foot, 24,000-pound confection.

"I thought, 'Oh well, that's big,'" he said. "'But we could totally do that.'"

What surprised him was the way the nine-month process changed his business.

"There was a lot of in-fighting in the company about it — employees that thought it was silly and ridiculous and some that were on board and totally thought it was cool," he said. "It was a good case study for growing pains in a company."

Everyone on the team had to buy in to the idea, even when it seemed outlandish. They talked about a golf cart that could drive in circles on top of the dough with an infrared heater strapped to its chassis and a geodesic dome they could lower on top of the cookie.

What they actually did was equally radical. They rolled out the dough onto pallets and froze it. They lowered the pieces onto a giant pan using a 150-foot crane and then pulled a billowing hood of polyester film over top to create a 102-foot oven. They pumped hot air inside for 11 hours until the dough was heated through.

Blackwell leveraged many of the same skills that make him a successful businessman to set the Guinness World Record — which he achieved by a long shot and still holds.

"This is a very entrepreneurial thing to do," he said. "It's being nimble and having that ability and having that creativity to shift gears and change."

Did earning the world record influence what happened next?

"It definitely moved our business forward," he said. "I think all in all, we spent like $22,000 on the whole project ... That's very inexpensive advertising. We were in every newspaper in the country the day it happened."

In 2012, he sold the company to General Mills. At that point, Immaculate was moving about $30 million worth of cookie dough a year in major retailers. But even though Blackwell no longer owns the company, his name remains on the packaging, along with the story of his incredible feat.

Even a food industry giant can't create the cachet that comes from an everyday guy achieving something extraordinary, he said.

Today, Blackwell owns High Wire Distilling Co. in Charleston with his wife, Ann Marshall. They signed a lease on the building where they make gin, whiskey and vodka the same month they sold Immaculate.

There's something sad about pulling off a major feat that made him want to keep working, he said.

"I had more fun day in, day out, cumulatively throughout the process," he said. "It's like sports: You're out playing a Super Bowl. I'm sure those guys love winning, but the reality is, there are those days and days and days."

All shook up

For larger companies, setting a world record feels much more status quo.

Last year, Harrah's Cherokee Casino Resort broke the record for the largest gathering of Elvis impersonators. Leeann Bridges, vice president of marketing, said that compared with the difficulties of running a casino, hotel, event space and several restaurants, setting a world record wasn't that challenging.

"We do a lot of planning," she said. "We are a very fine-oiled machine, if you will, so once we made the right contacts and were talking to the Guinness folks about what we would need to do, it came together quite beautifully."

The record was part of the Ultimate Elvis Tribute Contest, an annual event at the resort. To set the record, Harrah's placed a bulk order for white jumpsuits with flared legs, wigs and sunglasses. Their group included bona fide Elvis impersonators and guests and employees who wanted to get involved.

The 895 people gathered in costume to sing "Can't Help Falling in Love." (The song was one of Guinness' requirements.)

Instead of sending in paper documentation and waiting for Guinness to certify the world record — as the Zombie Float will do — Harrah's invited a Guinness officiator to come take part in the ceremony.

The officiator service helps the world record company remain viable as a business.

"In addition to our standard free processing services, we offer a range of B2B services, including research into appropriate records and on-site verification," said Ott. "Guinness World Records receives over 40,000 applications annually, 96 percent of which are processed free of charge."

Not like riding a bike

Not everyone who attempts a world record succeeds. Michael Mooney, one of the founders of Lexington Avenue Arts and Fun Festival, knows the sting of defeat. He felt it in his knee when he fell while practicing to break the record for world's tallest rideable bike.

The 43-foot-tall, 750-pound contraption included 28 bike chains. The ambitious machine was 23 feet taller than the current record holder.

After his 2007 injury, Mooney tried for the record a second time in 2008. He hoped the spectacle would draw more people to LAAFF if nothing else.

"I was doing it just for the experience and the publicity stunt and for something interesting to do," he said. "I like big projects and challenges and figuring things out."

And he did manage to ride the bike. He stationed a crane on Lexington Avenue and strapped himself to it in case of a fall. He launched the bike from the top of a high retaining wall and rode around the parking lot across from Rosetta's Kitchen. On his second lap, he toppled, a few feet shy of the distance requirement needed to declare the bike "rideable."

The bike is in storage now, bent from falling against the retaining wall. Mooney doubts he'll use it again, but he supports record attempts, even when they're not successful. He said the value is in the process.

"To be the person that can do it requires thinking outside the box and a huge leap of faith," he said. "It's a wonderful exercise in doing what people think is not possible, and that's the most interesting thing I think about it all, philosophically."

Want to help set a world record?

The Zombie Float returns for its second world record attempt on Saturday. To join the float, register online before 11:30 p.m. Friday.

The event begins at 9 a.m. Saturday at the Salvage Station, 468 Riverside Drive. Tickets include a shuttle ticket, but floaters must bring their own single-person tubes to qualify for the record. Tubes should be deflated for the shuttle ride. There will be an air pump at the launch.

Check-in ends at 11 a.m. The float begins about 2 miles up the river and ends at Salvage Station. An after party with food and beer takes place after the float (although alcohol is prohibited in the water).

Tickets start at $10. VIP passes cost $40. For more information, visit ashevillezombiefloat.com.