Just when you thought the asshole in the banana costume passing you during a race as you gasp for air was bad, there's a person like me taking a selfie, doing Instagram stories and Facebook statuses on their phone. How much is truly too damn much?
Photo Courtesy: bobbietfotos/ Bobbie Turner Photography
Wardrobe by Skirt Sports
Allow me to have an airhead moment but I had no idea that so many people were on the fence about taking selfies during a race, particularly marathons. Perhaps my ignorance comes from being in the back of the pack and anytime that I do it, there's typically a gang of exhausted runners viciously pulling out our phones to take that unnerving "please send help and give me cookies" photo while on the course. Frankly I find it a bit comical that some people become infuriated by the site of your phone zapping away at your pores while running but I wouldn't be me if I didn't give it some heavy thought.
Years ago, I never pictured myself traveling to most states on the West Coast of the United States outside of California but I found myself being swayed into going to Colorado. For months, I wondered if I’d be bored to tears by a state that I envisioned only having country music, snakes and dirt. Thankfully, five years of embracing a fitness journey and my newfound joy in traveling opened up my once judgmental views.
Leaving New York City
It was less than 72 hours that I found myself venturing off away from my family once again. Honestly I feel a bit guilty sometimes leaving behind my son and husband. Although I know it’s not true, I often feel as if I’m turning my husband into a temporary single father but I try not to divulge into the rabbit holes of guilt. Thankfully, he’s wholeheartedly supports my journey and with his blessing, it makes it slightly easier to venture off to various events, speaking engagements and of course, fitness nut adventures.
I left Brooklyn around 4AM in a Lyft to go to LaGuardia Airport. Every time I prepare myself to fly, I get a nervous energy that fills my arms and legs as if I have to use the bathroom. At the airport, I positioned myself by two gentlemen who were no older than 25 who annoyed every blood vessel in my body. I silently prayed not to be seated near them— If there’s a God, he or she is cruel because I was a row behind them. It wasn’t five hours of pure hell but I did enjoy the douche bag who tried to blame my boiled eggs on his incessant flatulence. A bit over 8AM MST, I landed in Denver International Airport safely and preparing myself for a world of possibilities, trying not be overly critical due to my jaded views of living in a major, fast paced city.
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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