Learning that a woman stated that I was asking to be raped in my "dangerous neighborhood" simply for running at night time made me sick to my stomach. I placed my phone on airplane mode and tried to let go of my frustrations.
NOTE: SENSITIVE COMMENTARY IS LOADED THROUGH THIS ENTIRE BLOG ABOUT SEXUAL ASSAULT AND PHYSICAL HARM.
Embarking on this new career changed up a lot of my fitness routines. You would think that because you're in the sports industry, this means that you would have more time to focus on your personal health. Actually, quite the opposite can happen especially when you are an entrepreneur like I am. At one point, my times for working out were pretty predictable but these days not so much.
As a road and trail runner, I am not easily rattled by the thoughts of running solo -- particularly at night or during the wee hours of the morning before the break of light. Oftentimes I hear commentary from people who raise concern but I was pretty disturbed by some comments that came my way via inbox about my nighttime musings. Without disclosing the person or to go into other details, several followers notified me about a woman ranting that I was going to 'get raped' for running around late hours of night. Other things were mentioned as to elude that I should run with a male companion and even reaching with a wild attempt to weaponize my own words from media interviews describing my "dangerous neighborhood," hinting that I am too nonchalant about moving through the NYC streets familiar to me.
Initially it filled me with anger but I realize that there's a lot of people who feel this way -- and frankly it frustrates me to such a high level that these sort of scare tactics stop people from night running especially as a woman. A few months ago, I partnered up with HOKA ONE ONE, Runner's World and Garmin about street harassment that I experienced during the 2017 New York City Marathon. Fortunately I was not catcalled during this instance but was heckled from the sidelines by a spectator who didn't feel I was suitable nor fit to run a marathon. Speaking out about this occurrence gave me a lot of media attention but I am no stranger to unwanted commentary; I'm far from alone in this instance.
In fact, I am subjected to sexual harassment in my everyday life on a regular basis and you know what: It doesn't wait for the late hours to commence. I am a lot more level headed than years before and wanted to articulate my thoughts in a rational manner. The best way that I know how to do this is in the form of a letter -- here it goes:
Do you find yourself muttering expletives at the person running an 8 minute pace smiling, eating a FroYo at mile 24? A sudden urge to lace their lace their fuel with scotch bonnet? OK hater -- I relate and see you.
When I officially started training for my first race, the Michelob 13.1 series in Queens, I remember not knowing what the hell I was doing. My chest burned after three minutes of running and the only thing that kept me going was the idea of losing out on the race entry fee. Feel free to judge my cheap ways because I know that I'm not alone in this sentiment. One unusually warm winter morning, I went to Boys and Girls track feeling defeated and reducing my run down to a speed walk. This long limbed, Shaun T looking extra galloped in front of me. Her skin looked like rich dark chocolate and in my mind, her sweat probably tasted like a box of Girl Scout Cookies --and no I wasn't checking her out (that much). I remember her because she did two and a half loops to my one loop. She smiled at me on her fourth time around and even said good morning as I walked off the track pissed.
'Fuck her for being able to sing while running that quickly.' I actually said this out loud when I stopped the timer on my Runkeeper app. I didn't hate her but she represented what I didn't have at the time: Endurance, speed and a personal peace with running. I was the Salt Bae of hater's anonymous. In hindsight, I know that she wasn't my real problem.
As much as I love running with my husband, I have an irrational fear that he will want to push me down a hill in efforts of keeping up a good pace. Whilst he hasn't applied that pressure onto me yet, it reminds me of the worries that exist as a back of the pack runner.
Unlike most of my friend list on Instagram, my husband had to wake me up two minutes before the start of the New Year. It's my lovely 30s kicking my ass and reminding me that I could give two bits of a damn about staying awake long enough to watch the ball drop. Our family friend Joanna, my son EJ, husband and I had a celebratory drink - and the kid had sparkling cider - before I was ready to call it a night. An exhausted Eric grew irritated about my line of questioning about what time we would go for our training run; he finally agreed that he'd wake up at whatever ungodly hour I was ready to go. Whenever a spouse says something like this to you, it's a polite way of them telling you to please shut the hell up and leave them alone. In my heart, I wanted to be a jerk and wake him for o'dark thirty; instead my body knew better and waited until after 8AM.
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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