I knew the course limit was six hours and my fastest marathon to date was roughly six hours and thirty minutes. Who am I kidding? I’m not going to be able to shave thirty minutes off of my time but am I really in it for the medals anymore?
My backpack has been packed for a week.
Who the fuck am I trying to kid? I started packing two weeks ago and didn’t come to a resolve until the day before departure. Looking at my race calendar for the year is exceptionally exhausting as it is ambitious. I don’t know many within my inner circle who would sign up for as many events as I would—but I have even less who would sign up for a 100K due to peer pressure and extended opportunities.
I chose one of the latest flights possible to leave New York City almost two months ago to avoid skipping swim classes. Who knew that would be done in vain considering my neighborhood recreational center is now temporarily closed due to construction, putting a dent in my swimming instruction—but that’s a separate conversation of its own.
My husband Eric thought it would be great to hit the movie theater for the matinee with the kid to see Deadpool 2 (and yes, I’m aware it’s not a kid’s movie—sue me!). My nerves started to wreak havoc on me horribly and my family could feel my anxiety from a floor above. Captain Bad Ass - affectionally know as my son - and my husband sent me with well wishes and good footing. My traveling has become a slight norm for them at this point. Often times, I find myself feeling a bit guilty for indulging in these races. Race day is huge but the training is not only mentally and physically taxing but can create an extrovert like me into a loner; it is something that I worry about with my training for the Javelina Jundred 100K and setting up a sleuth of marathons before and after I beatbox with the devil of a course. By 10pm, I was leaving NYC and because Vermont is like a beautiful neighbor, I landed by 11pm. I promptly checked into my hostel - a very cheap and reliable option for the traveling hippie on a budget or a procrastinator on hotels - and pulled out my race gear.
Latoya Shauntay Snell
For my pretentious ass bio, check out the about me page but for anyone interested in who I really am, make me a good meal at your house and I'll tell you a dope ass story.
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