Marathon season for me is over. Shamefully, I am going through junkie withdrawals. I find myself drooling over the Spartan race website and stalking the New York Road Runner pages for the next race that I am considering signing up for in 2017. If you happen to socialize with me regularly, you may be aware that I am not much of a New Years Resolution fan but I absolutely adore yearly bucket lists. I told myself that next year is the year of the ultra marathon.
Yes, please chuckle hard. When I did my first and only ultra marathon in 2015, two weeks after the New York City Marathon, I participated in the NYRR 60K, which is equivalent to 37.2 miles. I was fine until mile 29, in which I had to use the bathroom and came out a changed woman. It was like going to the shitter made me purge out all of my delusions of considering ultra marathons easy. The sodium evicted itself out of my body like the repo man was tired of my bullshit. Parts of my body started to lose sensation and the cold affected me as I went from 12 - 13 minutes miles to a complete "Fuck it, I'm walking" pace. I managed to talk to the Devil and God in my head for 9 hours, 47 minutes and 22 seconds. Some pain is hard to forget but like child birth, I developed amnesia and here I am, talking my incredibly zany self into pursuing several ultra and standard marathons this year.
For my non running community, a marathon is 26.2 miles or 42.2K. An ultra marathon is anything above this distance. It's such a glorious hell that I am thankful for. With this thought process in mind, I told myself to continue running, even if the distance is relatively short. Consistency is key in these types of sports.
For December, I promised myself that I would be running at least 4 times a week, 2 miles minimum a day. Thankfully, I have fulfilled my quota thus far, even on the most craptacular of days. Unfortunately, the weather has been going through PMS with these warm and cold flashes. I cannot help but chuckle at the weird stares and concerned feedback that I get while running through Brooklyn. Most times, people aren't brave enough to tell me that I must be out of my mind to be running in leggings and a pullover. Typically, I just glance and laugh at the judgmental stares and I like to lock eyes with them with an awkward smile to assure their confused hearts that I'm actually okay. Seldom times, I will get a few people who will tell me to go back home and find a coat. Most of these occurrences happen from the salt and peppered hair crowd.
I'm A Little Crazy. Not Stupid.
Alas, I find myself writing this blog today defending my legs, protecting my neck and assuring people that I might just be warmer than them after a mile of jogging. Some of you may wonder how that's so but I'm so glad that you asked. If you didn't, too bad. I have this debate all in my head and I have to share it with you. Read the bullet points:
How To Layer Up for the Winterapocalypse
Winter isn't just coming...it's here and she's a rude bitch. Unfortunately, I am a well seasoned asshole myself. In turn, protect yourself while doing your winter running. Here's my suggestions:
So boom. No hypothermia for me this year if I can help it. I will not be running in shorts at 2 degrees but if you see one of us doing it, shake your head in disagreement lightly and give him or her a wave. We're only half way nuts. That person might be a polar bear or has trained in this type of weather for so long, his or her nipples are slowly cooking at 275 degrees.
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.
If you want to donate to my one woman operation, please feel free to donate below. All funds will help me keep the blog running smoothly.