Progress Report

Best Part: My scar looks like the intersection where I was hit!

It is so cool to look at the picture of my original injury and see how much it has improved in just 9 months! Wow... I can't believe it has been 9 months since I was hit.

Though I am still in a state of constant pain and my foot has a lot of problems with nerve damage, tight bones, numbness and aching, I am super excited to say that I am back in the routine of things. I am nowhere near where I was before the accident and I'm not sure I will ever be able to train at the same extent that I used to, but I do feel like my form has improved and I have a lot of hope for this upcoming year.

Thank you for all of the prayers, encouragement and support. I will be updating you all on my training when the new year comes! Look out, IM Boulder! Santa Barbara Iron Team is coming for you!

I stumbled upon this post and found myself nodding my head with every point made by the author. This is me in a nutshell. I am so glad I am not alone in this.

Enjoy!

Also, blast from the past: http://ashleetrisharder.blogspot.com/2013/04/asking-triathlete-on-date.html

HOW TO DATE A TRIATHLETE/MARATHON RUNNER/ENDURANCE JUNKIE.

Posted by Carrie Schep in Cycling, Endurance lifestyle, Endurance sports, Inspiration, Ironman,Marathon, Running, Swimming, Triathlon and tagged with Cyclists, Dating, Endurance athletes,Runners, Triathletes, TriathlonDecember 22, 2013

1. Don’t.

Just kidding. In fact, endurance junkies are some of the most quality people around. All of those hours spent alone with ourselves in the meditative realm ofZone 2 really forces us to think about things like who we are, what we believe in, the meaning of life, what we’re going to eat immediately when we get home, and other critical themes.

But it’s not as simple as run, rinse, repeat. Being a true endurance junkie is a lifestyle. It’s a state of mind. For many of us, training makes us better people every day. It serves us in ways other people or experiences have not or cannot. And so we find ourselves caught up in a committed relationship, legs intertwined with the goddess of multisport.

As I once (perhaps mistakenly) told a past boyfriend: “You may be my boyfriend, but triathlon is my husband.”

Needless to say, this did not go over very well. I was mostly kidding, but I think we both knew it to largely be true. He replied with some snarky comment about “time spent in the saddle,” which I actually recall being quite clever and pun-ny.

This past summer and fall, in an attempt to unearth just what it is that makes us endurance junkies so “un-datable,” I conducted a rather unscientific social experiment: I went on 21 dates in 21 weeks, with 21 non-endurance athletes (a.k.a. “normal people”). Here’s what I discovered to be the top most misunderstood aspects of the endurance junkie’s lifestyle.

1. Most of us are introverts. Sure, we may be the life of the party on the rare occasions we are out socializing. We may seem extroverted because of our tendency to be outgoing when others are around. But don’t be fooled. Usually that’s just the endorphins talking. Or the fact that eventually, we need to balance out our 90% alone time with some human contact. Either way, just be prepared for someone who likes to be a bit of a lone wolf. It takes a certain type to spend hours alone running and cycling, and that certain type usually has a penchant for solitude that may be disturbing to others.

2. Please, please, please don’t make us stay out late with you. Our idea of “going out” involves literally going outdoors on foot or bicycle, preferably in the wee hours of Saturday morning when the rest of the world is sleeping off an impending hangover. If you make us stay out late with you at some sub-par Mexican restaurant, and hence compromise the quality or timing of our planned weekend long run/ride, we will resent you. And eat all the chips and salsa without regard for the others at the table. Consider yourself warned.

3. We WILL spend more time swimming, biking, and running, than with you.Sorry. It’s not that we don’t like you, it’s just that, well, we like SBR better.

4. Vacations, dates, and trips centered around doing something physical and rugged are incredibly hot. Especially if you can keep up/only if you can keep up.

5. Please don’t make comments about our choice of dress. We got up at 3:30 am and ran 54 miles today, so yes, it’s gonna be another sweatpants day.

6. Please don’t make comments about the state of our feet, or the strange rashes on our backs and butts. Listen, I’ve been working on those calluses for years. And brush burn can happen to the best of us. It’s a badge of honor. Now hand me my body butter.

7. It’s really, honestly, seriously not about the bike. Some multisport “hobbyists”, as I like to call them, are really just into gear: flashy bikes, fancy moisture-wicking apparel, gravity-defying running shoes. I think those folks are in the minority though. Really, for most of us, it’s about the process. The bike is just a vehicle for personal growth and change.

8. …but if you HAVE to give us a gift, give us a bike! Okay, maybe not a bike (has anyone looked at the price tags on those things these days? Insane!), but something we can use to make ourselves more comfortable, efficient, and/or entertained while slogging it out there. As they say, carbon fiber is a girl’s best friend. Or is it only me who says that? Meh.

9. We probably finished off that entire box of cereal. SORRY. It takes a lot of fuel to power through several hours of cardio exercise every day. Or at least, so we tell ourselves. If you bring it to our attention that downing an entire box of Product 19 in a day is gross, we will feel sad, misunderstood and self conscious. So just don’t go there.

10. No run = cranky + moody. I once saw a t-shirt at a local running shop that had the words “NO RUN = CRANKY + MOODY” printed on it in large block print. I felt relieved that clearly, I was not the only one to have experienced this phenomenon. Now where can I find a cute guy sporting said shirt?

11. We’re geeks for numbers. A lot of triathlon lingo is centered around numbers, figures, and calculations. Do we expect you to understand when we toss around terms like “max cadence,” “wattage,” “millimeter offset,” and “Yasso 800s“? Yes, yes we do.

12. Yes, we are capable of love. We just show it differently. Here’s my theory, which is loosely based on my associations with triathlete and marathoning friends over the years: we just have a different sense of relativity, slightly different tolerance for solitude and independence, and frequently a radically different neurohormonal profile, than the general populous. We like our friends to be people who understand the value of setting personal goals and doggedly going after them, with perhaps seeming disregard for other aspects of life. Needless to say, this typically isn’t considered very socially acceptable; women especially are deemed neglectful if they choose to pursue “hobbies” outside of family and even career. 

The thing about triathletes and endurance athletes is that many of us have rediscovered the power of positive motivation, encouragement, and coaching in our adult lives. The paradigm of pushing through personal boundaries to shatter past records and achieve new, previously unattainable goals is something many of us move away from after we graduate from high school sports teams. This lens–one of encouragement, big dreaming, and distinctive goal-setting–is the one through which we understand how to show love and affection. If one of my friends mentions a goal she’s been entertaining, you sure as hell bet I’ll be on her case about realizing that goal and surpassing it. This comes off as annoying to some, but more often than not I’ve been met with appreciation.

Perhaps most people don’t get enough of this on a regular basis. When was the last time you heard someone say something like, “I believe in you,” “You can do anything you set your mind to,” or “Dream big”? These are things we were liberally showered with as children, but such encouragement and belief in oneself falls by the wayside as we grow up and hide away behind our desk jobs. This makes me sad.

I think people who are drawn to things like endurance sports are people who have recognized that realistically, only a finite amount of achievement and goal realization is possible in the “real world”. The concept of the entirely self-made man or woman is a thing of the past, as our careers and personal lives function more at the whim of the economy, our happenstance social network, and random obstacles that arise than our education and persistence. No longer does good, honest hard work necessarily translate into getting where one wants to be.

With triathlon, the payback is reliably and predictably related to the amount of work that’s put into it. Working hard = progress, and progress = personal growth and improvement. We crazy endurance junkies have found an arena in which one of the most basic human needs is not only attainable, it’s incredibly accessible. Maybe we’re not so crazy, after all?

In summary: how to date a triathlete:

-Dream big

-Stock up on Product 19.

The end.

Uncertainty

Life is great. Everything is perfect. You have a handsome, wonderful, devoted significant other who stands by you and likes you for God knows what reasons. Your job rocks and you are excited to go to work every single day. Your family supports you unconditionally and encourages you to pursue your dreams. The friendships in your life are thriving and you are on a high.

And then something happens. Maybe a bad day at work. In fact, something so minuscule: Lukewarm coffee in your mug.

All of a sudden your life is a tornado. Everything must change! That lukewarm coffee has changed your life and your life feels like a big, fat, giant fail.

That happened to me last week.

Thank goodness that God is good and that not all coffee is lukewarm.

Hey, have a great day, blogesphere!

Progress Report

Where am I? I guess I should give all y’all an update. You probably have noticed all the photos I’ve been posting from my trail runs. Yes, I have been running. Hip hip hooray! Unfortunately, it is not without pain. AND I still have to see my superhero physical therapist three times a week for some breaking down of the scar tissue, some strengthening exercises and some stretching… oh, and did I mention a lot of pain and “I hate you, Jason”’s, because that definitely happens, too. It’s an endearing hate though. I tell him I hate him when he really is doing my body good. Actually, when he is doing my body best, I hate him the most. Funny how that works!

But all the pain and hate is worth it; want to know why? Because I am running! The doctor said I would never be able to run again. I quit my jobs, moved out of my apartment, left my family and friends in Santa Barbara and started a new life simply because I was told it was the end of my running career.

I’ve always been stubborn. Tell me I can’t do something and I will prove you wrong! I guess that was the drive behind getting back into running. It has been a really long, really difficult journey, but I have been so blessed along the way. I have made new friends, challenged my body in ways I forgot it could be challenged, explored new parts of the country and improved my form (I hope!). Obviously, I have a long way to go. In fact, I can’t even go on a long run without taking walking breaks. My foot still cramps up every time I put a shoe on. There are many restrictions that go along with having an injury. There are even movements in yoga that I cannot complete due to limited ROM in my ankle, but I am still so grateful for the strength I have.

Thank you for all of your prayers, letters, e-mails, gifts and support. This has definitely been the best, yet most difficult year of my life and I am looking forward to ending 2013 with a bang!

Sweater Weather

A month has passed since I turned a whoppin' 26-years-of-age. The good news= I don't need a walker yet! The better news= I'm doing pretty well on my 26 list.

1. I've sent 4 letters/care packages.
2. I've done my 26 plus miles every week- easy cheesy!
3. I've been spending 26 minutes with God every day, though to be honest, this is the most difficult challenge to remember to do.
4. I have yet to start taking my vitamins :/
5. No money towards loans. Whoopsidaisies!
6. I've gotten rid of ten items.
7. One random act of kindness. Hmmmm
8. No new Bible verses memorized. Eek!
9. No new phrases in another language... come on, Thanittha! I thought you were going to help me with this one. Tonight when you come over, it's learning time!
10. I have yet to write my book, but I do have a title!
11. I've done my push-ups. No problem!
12. I haven't even attempted a 26-minute wall-sit!
13. So far I have run on 10 new trails in a month... that's not too shabby!
14. I've gone on 5 one-on-one friend dates.
15. I have not taken any yoga classes.
16. I have only tried one new recipe and it was for gluten-free oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. They were a success!
17. I have tried 5 new things.
18. I have given 25 epic highfives to 25 different people. I'm secretly saving my 26th highfive for someone awesome! Whoops! Okay, so it's not so secret anymore...
19. I did a plank once this month and it lasted for 1:06 so I have some work to do; HOWEVER, Jason had me do the plank after punishing me on the ball for an hour. My PT rocks!
20. I am on my 7th day in a row of yoga.
21. I have yet to run a marathon this month. Gosh! What is wrong with me? ;)
22. I am working on my first painting out of 26. I have a long way to go...
23. I have made 3 meals for my parents.
24. Surprisingly, I have only burned one CD! Weird... I thought that would be the easiest!
25. I have lost 1.4 pounds. Pretty sure it is all water weight, but whatever... WATER BE GONE!
26. I have read one new book so far. It was awesome. I was a fan. I should read more often...

I got out of the pool this morning before the sun had even risen. There was a light rain on my drive home and I smiled as I let the voice of Jon Foreman sooth my soul. Today is a sweater weather type of day. I cuddled up in a giant, totally unflattering sweater, threw on some jean shorts (31 degrees? That's a warm day!) and slipped on my Toms. Sipping my coffee on the way to work, I couldn't help but smile. Walking into work, I declared it was going to be a good day. My coworkers gave me grumbly pouts and we started our morning meeting. On the other side of the window, a rainbow sprouted from a field of weeds and pine trees.

A good sweater weather type of day indeed.

How To Impress a 13-Year-Old

Asking questions is my M.O. If you find yourself sitting alone at a table with me, get ready for a job interview, because that is what talking to me feels like. What no one believes is that I am incredibly shy! It's true! Put me in a room with multiple people who know each other and I'm the odd duck then watch me squirm. 

I have not led a small group since I was in college, but after moving back to Oregon this year, I decided I wanted to be a YoungLife leader. Remembering my experiences with it in high school and college, happiness filled my thoughts. I found the school I wanted to get involved with and joined the team! Soon, I had my own group of six freshman girls to mentor.

Our first meeting was intimidating. The six girls in my group are cute, skinny volleyballers. They were all dressed exceptionally well when I walked into the coffee shop in my sweaty Patagonia and stinky running tights. My hair was pulled back and I could feel a blister forming on the back of my heel. Suddenly I wished I had waited to do my run after meeting up with the ladies.

Sitting down at the table, I fumbled for conversation topics: "So... what classes are you taking... how was the volleyball season this year... Uhhh... Uhmmmm... What type of coffee do you drink?" Okay, so it wasn't that bad, but it sure felt like it!

I have realized something about myself: I am intimidated by younger people! With people my age and older, conversation flows pretty well. I can be myself and not try to impress anyone. With younger individuals, I feel like I have to prove myself so they will think I am cool.

So how do you impress a thirteen-year-old popular girl? Yeah... I have no idea. But if all y'all have any suggestions on topics or ways to have them open up to you, please feel free to shoot them my way!

I Make Plans To Break Plans

Last night, my friend asked me ideally where I would like to see myself in 5 years.

In order to answer this, I had to look back ten years. If you had asked me this when I was 16, I would have answered quickly and eagerly. "I want to be married to a handsome, wealthy surfer who has great arms and blonde, shaggy hair. We will live in a mansion in San Diego on Windansea where we will take our two children surfing every single day. My son will be a couple of years older than my daughter so that he may be her protector while growing up. I will be a professional singer/songwriter and life will be good." Oh man... how I have changed...

So we skip ahead to that 16-year-old five years later. A junior in college. "What are your plans for after you graduate?" My dad asked over Christmas. "I don't know," I brushed him off and continued texting with my friends. "Ashlee, you are paying $48,000 a year for school. You need to have a plan. What do you want to do five years from now?" I didn't know. I knew I wanted to be married and have kids while working as a physical therapist or sonogram technician by the time I was 26. If I was not married with kids and a great job, obviously, I had failed (in my 21-year-old brain). Dad had me take one of those job tests to find out what route I should be taking; my dad is all about planning for the future. After 3 hours of answering questions to the best of my ability, I was told I was a 99.7% match to be a fantastic funeral director. Eff that! No way was I going to one of the most prestigious Christian schools in the US in order to become a funeral home director. So sonogram technology... that's what I wanted to do in five years.

Fast forward to now: I am not a professional singer (though sometimes in the shower or in front of my bedroom mirror, I like to pretend I am), nor am I a sonogram technician. I do not own my own home. My husband is far from real. And kids? Oh my goodness! Thank you, Jesus, for not blessing me with children at a young age! These past five years have been full of learning and changing and growing and developing. I have become a woman whom I only wished I could be one day.

Five years from now... I have no idea where I will be or even where I would like to be. I think God has big plans for me and that is really exciting. So ideally, in five years, I would like to be serving God in whatever way he may need me to do so. I'm just excited because I feel like I am yearning to further his kingdom. I don't know what that looks like as of now, but I am definitely learning that making plans is pointless because ultimately God is in control and his plan is greater than any I could imagine.

Mountain Fried Week

Guest blog written by Dan Reinis.

"Honey, what do you mean you've never had anything fried? How do you eat?" Ashlee sat there politely puzzled, trying to formulate an acceptable answer to give the genuinely perplexed waitress from Thelma’s Chicken and Waffle Place in downtown Roanoke.                                                                                                                         

Tucker and I had determined it was our duty this week to show Ashlee all the wonders the South has to offer; what better way than to start with an early-morning, gut-busting plate of fried chicken and waffles? Tucker and I had been planning for Ashlee’s visit the way we plan for the majority of our trips: Wait until the last minute then get in the truck and start driving, the details will work themselves out. So after a quick trip to Roanoke’s Go Outside Festival, we hit the road and headed down to good ol’ North Carolina. The beginning of our Blue Ridge adventure brought us to the Linville Gorge. The Linville gorge has been called the Grand Canyon of the east; with one quick look down into the gorge from the ridge above, you can clearly see why.

We arrived at the Conley Cove Trail right at dark and began the arduous task of sorting through our gear and packing packs. This was when we discovered the first forgotten bit of gear: Tuckers headlamp was nowhere to be found. To say that it was dark by this time would be an understatement. It was pitch black as we started down the trail with Tucker trying to find his footing amongst the loose rock and jutting roots that pave the Conley Cove Trail all the way down to the river. With me lighting the trail ahead of us, Tucker in the middle hiking like a drunken baby taking his first steps, and Ashlee bringing up the rear, we descended through the old growth forest with only a few hilarious missteps. Our campsite for the night is one that I have been using in the gorge for years. We were perched on the edge of a bluff sixty feet above the river surrounded by gigantic pine and hemlock trees that easily cleared one hundred feet. Once we reached camp, we fell into that comfortable pace of setting up camp and gathering firewood. All of us have a background working with kids in the wilderness who generally need to be instructed how to do just about everything. Multiple times. One of my simple pleasures in life is when you get the chance to fall into that comfortable silence that can only come with experienced trip leaders who know what needs to be done without having to say it. Listening to the wind whip through the pines and the river flowing below we started assembling our pile of firewood. 

It was at this time that our backwoods trio gained two more members. Within five minutes of us getting into camp my headlamp caught the shiny reflection of two yellow eyes that were bobbing down the trail towards us. The eyes belonged to a handsome blue tick coonhound that must have let his nose distract him from the hunt as he decided to check us out. Following close behind him was a skinny as a rail walker hound sporting a fancy GPS tracking collar common on hunting hounds. We checked their collars and saw that they belonged to a man just up the valley that we figured had to be looking for his hounds. We named our new four legged friends Bobby and Steve and went back to our tasks as the tired dogs curled up near our fire. The five of us enjoyed our fire and settled into the comfort of a brisk night in the mountains. We joked and laughed and told stories of past wilderness trips while sipping some of the finest moonshine made in the South. 

Throughout our trip a common theme arose of enjoying life’s simple pleasures. Fresh batteries in a headlamp. Piping hot coffee in a squishy bowl. Good friends, food, fire and smooth whiskey. What more could we ask for?

The next morning was a picture perfect fall day in Appalachia. The brisk wind blew around fallen maple and oak leaves as the sun made way over the east ridge of the gorge. We hastily guzzled down a pot of instant coffee passing the bowl full of caffeine goodness to one another until only the dregs remained and it was time to explore. We made our way south down the Linville Gorge Trail on the hunt for my favorite jumping rock on the river. The trail winds up and down the hollers gradually constricting until it is barely the size of a game trail fit for goats and deer. We found the jumping spot and wasted no time getting down to our skivvies and scrambling up the backside of the house-sized boulder. People come to the jump rock for the swimming but stay for the view. From the top of the boulder the eastern ridge of the gorge rises out from the trees proudly displaying Carolina Wall. Carolina Wall is a massive expanse of the mountain that looks like it was completely sheered off sending the massive boulders we now played on down into the river valley.

Jumping into frigid rivers is without a doubt one of the more shocking to the senses type of simple pleasures. We enjoyed our day on the river, filling our time with exploring, bouldering and bushwhacking. 

The next day we left the gorge and headed west towards Asheville and Pisgah national forest. The plan was to meet our friend Brock by the fish hatchery to camp for the night. As most plans tend to go, ours was momentarily side tracked, as we had to drive in and out of the forest to get enough cell reception to call Brock. By sheer luck we passed a car on the way back into the woods that slowed down as we approached it. As we rolled down the window there was our buddy who had his own adventure on dark dirt roads trying to find the fish hatchery. We made our way to our campsite for the night and settled in. Good friends, food, fire and smooth whiskey. What more did we need? Our next day was planned to take us to Black Balsam Knob, a giant mountain bald that offers 360-degree views of Pisgah. We pulled onto the famous Blue Ridge parkway and were stunned by the fall foliage that blanketed the old mountains that the parkway is perched on the crest of.

On the way to Black Balsam, fate had another idea for us as we passed a road sign stating Great Smoky national park was only 56 miles down the road. How could we resist? Blaring bluegrass and singing along at the top of our lungs we made our way into the park and up to Clingman’s Dome.                 

Clingman's Dome is the highest point of elevation on the Appalachian Trail and is known for its extreme weather patterns year round. We got the chance to experience the Smoky's weather as we got out of the truck and were immediately hit with a cutting cold wind. This was no longer chaco weather, though Tucker kept his on, adding a pair of socks underneath to keep warm. A sloppy assault of sleet peppered us as we made the way up the trail to the observation tower. We passed winded tourists taking smoke breaks as they labored up the paved path. The observation tower offered views of about fifty feet as the mountains and trees began getting covered in the blowing ice.

We retreated down the trail, grabbed our packs and took a side trail of the Appalachian Trail to the Mt. Collier Trail Shelter. Most shelters on the A.T. are three sided and offer the most basic of amenities, such as a privy and water source nearby. We hit the jackpot as far as trail shelters go because this one not only had a sound roof to keep the elements at bay, but it also had a tarp that stretched across the front to trap in the warmth. Two other backpackers were already there and, bless their hearts, they even had the shelter’s fireplace roaring. We warmed our frozen fingers by the fire then began cooking our dinner of slightly cooked bacon and beans and rice.

         

When we awoke, the other hikers had gone but the cold certainly had not. The trees glistened as the sun shone off every icicle. We skipped our morning coffee with the promise of a warm truck and nearby Gatlinburg, a tourist trap of a town that had to have that liquid gold known as coffee. But we weren't out of the woods yet. As we reached the end of the trail and saw Tucker's truck we could hear snow plows in the distance scraping at the road. There was only one set of tire tracks heading up the mountain and we thought that was curious, but didn't give it a second thought as we cranked the heat in the Four-Runner. We slowly skidded down the mountain's frozen road and made it to the bottom without vehicular destruction. We thought we were in the clear until we saw it: The park service had closed the gate to the top of the mountain the night before forbidding tourists and their clicking cameras from driving up. Luckily for us, they didn't lock it. We left the park and drove along the Tennessee-North Carolina line before heading into Gatlinburg. After only a few nights in the backcountry, coming into Gatlinburg was like getting slapped in the face with an ugly flashing neon sign. After we filled up on grub and coffee we sped back out of society and made our way north to Virginia.

We took the interstate up into Virginia, leaving the Smokies behind and setting our sights on the rolling hills and mountains of Shenandoah National Park. After some time, we found ourselves again on the Blue Ridge Parkway. We must have stopped at nearly every scenic view pull out along the road, never getting tired of that view. The sun was setting to the west sending its last stretches of light towards us in the mountains and coating the valley below us in that shimmering late evening glow.  We were even fortunate enough to see a black bear mama and her cub scamper across the road. 

Tonight would be Ashlee’s last with us so we wanted to make the most of it. We made camp and started our campfire quickly, eager to get our only responsibilities out of the way so as to enjoy each other’s company for the last time in the woods. We sipped whiskey and took turns making Ashlee suffer from the uncontrollable squirrel-like squeaks she calls laughing. When the whiskey was gone and the fire was dying, down we laid out our sleeping bags and gazed up at the stars before drifting off to sleep.

Our final morning, we reluctantly packed up Tucker’s truck and began heading north to Washington D.C., where Ashlee would be staying with some friends before flying home to Oregon. But the wilderness still had another surprise waiting for us: as we were leaving the park, we noticed a few tourist’s cars were pulled over on the side of the road. We all had spent a summer in Wyoming where it is extremely common to see the tourists all parked haphazardly all over the road trying to snap pictures on their iPads of the bison and other wildlife that call the Tetons home. So when we initially saw the cars, we brushed it off. Silly tourists. But as we neared them, Ashlee spotted something up in a tree. There, looking back at us, was a young black bear hanging out shooting curious looks at the people down below. He hung out for a little while before scurrying down the tree, sending the more faint of heart tourists sprinting back to their metal safety boxes. We all had a smile on our face leaving the park that day. Another simple pleasure realized.

We got Ashlee to her friend’s condo in D.C. safely after a short drive from Shenandoah. Tucker and I stood out a little bit from the locals. We were dirty, bearded, and smelling like a smoldering campfire. Ashlee, on the other hand, performed nothing short of magic in the backseat unbeknownst to Tucker and I. She emerged from the truck looking like a proper civilized lady in new clothes. Scratching our heads at this feat we walked her into the condo and said our goodbyes. 

The amount of people and traffic in northern Virginia was another shock to the senses. All those poor souls inching along in traffic, locked into the trap of a suburban consumer driven existence. Did they even know what wonders and beauty were available to them only a few miles away? Did they even care? Hell if we knew. Tucker cranked the bluegrass and we did what we do best: Drove as fast as we could out of society back home to the mountains. 

I Have A Feeling This Will Be The Best Year Ever

I have finally reached a place in my life where I do not mind being alone. My entire life, I have ached for the company of other people. Going into the wilderness alone was not an option. Heck, going to the ladies room alone was not an option!

But something happened when I started running. Running opened up an entire new world to me. It gave me a chance to spend time one-on-one with God. It was just me, my feet, the path in front of me and God. I was surrounded by His creation and it brought immense happiness.

Being alone was still hard though. If you watch New Girl, there is a scene where Schmidt is running around his new apartment dancing and riding giddy-up on a broom pony. After less than a minute, he begins missing his old roommates. That used to be me:

"Yay! I'm out in the woods alone! Totally alone! Freedom!"

Twenty seconds later...

"Did you hear that? Was that a bear? I'm all alone! I hate this! I want friends!"

Ten seconds later...

"Thank goodness I can experience this stillness alone!"

Five....

"I wish I could share this view with a friend."

...You get it.

Fortunately, at the ripe young age of 26, I am totally content! I have not dated anyone in almost two years. Last Thursday, Friday and Saturday, I went on four solo adventures and had the time of my life! I was telling my friend Sam about how I chose to go out into the woods alone instead of to a party. He is a mountain man, so I thought he would understand, but he stifled a scoff  as I told him my what-I-thought-was-awesome story.

Life definitely requires solid friendships. A sunset is always a little bit better when you have someone to share it with. Community is crucial for growth. But, just as important is being content in the solitude of your alone time. Appreciate the moments you have alone with God. Appreciate who you are as an individual. Take time to reflect on your life and meditate on the simple pleasures that make you tick.

Two weeks ago, I turned twenty-six. I have composed a list of twenty-six things I would like to accomplish before next October. Some are easy (really easy!), but I need to have those easy ones in order to have small successes and motivate me to conquer the more challenging goals!

1. Send 26 care packages/letters to 26 different people.
2. Run/hike/snowshoe 26 miles minimum per week.
3. Spend at least 26 minutes in conversation or stillness with God every single day.
4. Take my vitamins for 26 days in a row.
5. Put $26,000 towards school loans this year.
6. Get rid of at least 26 items/belongings.
7. Follow through on 26 random acts of kindness.
8. Memorize 26 Bible verses.
9. Learn 26 phrases in another language.
10. Write a 26-page book.
11. Perform 26 full push-ups in a row.
12. Hold a 26-minute wall sit.
13. Discover 26 new-to-me trails.
14. Go on 26 friend dates with different people and pay for each one.
15. Attend 26 yoga or Pilates classes not taught by me!
16. Attempt 26 new recipes.
17. Try 26 new activities/foods/things that scare me.
18. Give 26 high-fives to 26 individuals.
19. Hold a plank for 2:60.
20. Do yoga/Pilates for 26 days in a row.
21. Run at least one 26-mile race (Ironman).
22. Create 26 paintings or pieces of art.
23. Cook 26 meals for my parents.
24. Make 26 CDs for 26 different people.
25. Lose 26 pounds.
26. Read 26 new-to-me books.

Sunscreen is Funscreen!

Ten years ago, when I was just 16 years old and the world revolved around me, I made a life-changing mistake. It was 2003 and my friends were going up to Mt. Bachelor to hit the slopes. I had just gotten my season pass and was anxious to put it to use. We arrived at the mountain before the lifts were even operating, anxious for a good day of fresh powder. The sky was overcast, so I decided to forego the sunscreen. Cold weather, no sun in the sky... those conditions don't call for sunscreen, do they?

That evening, after snowboarding from 9am to 4pm, my friends and I settled into my parents' hot tub. My dad came out and demanded I come inside. "Ashlee, we need to talk," he said in his stern, no-nonsense tone. Six pairs of eyes stared at me. Most of those eyes belonged to boys. Was dad mad that I had brought home five boys to hang out in his hot tub? Could he be upset that three of those five were wearing his swim trunks?

Fortunately, the site of my cherry-red face distracted him from those facts. The UVB rays had not only reddened my face, but caused my chipmunk cheeks to blister. The heat from the hot tub had not helped my cause. The rest of the night was spent pouring gobs of aloe vera on my face. I looked like the creature from the black lagoon.

When I saw my dermatologist the next day, he informed me I had second-degree burns. I spent the next 2 months with a goggle sunburn line, a peeling face and a bruised ego.

Thank you, Google.com, for a perfect example of me in male form

Just because the temperatures have started to drop does not mean your risk of sunburn have also gone down. There are several preventitive measures you can take to keep your skin looking flawless.

1. Sunscreen is funscreen. Growing up, I would attend surf camp every summer and every single year, my counselor would remind us of this. It may seem like a pain to apply it and wait fifteen minutes before beginning activity, but the long-term benefits are so worth that extra effort!

At high altitudes, UV rays are stronger than at lower altitudes. During the winter, due to the reflection off of snow, exposure to UV rays is strong, too. It is important to stay safe and apply an even greater SPF if you work or live at a high altitudes.

Did you know that we even sell sunscreen at Rescue Response Gear! It's true! Ask your salesperson about Coppertone, Bullfrog or one of the many other sun protection brands we carry!

2. Cover your scalp! CMC makes a great product called the "Sunbrero". It is a rim that attaches to your helmet and protects your face, neck and ears from the sun's rays. It is designed specifically for your helmet, so it clips on and won't get in your way while you are working. Keep it classy and keep looking sassy with the sunbrero!

www.rescueresponse.com

3. While on the job, it is difficult to control your sun exposure during the workday, but between the hours of 10am to 4pm, the UV rays are strongest. If you can, try to work in a more protected or shaded area during these hours and save the exposed areas for earlier or later in the day!

Remember: It is your skin and your health! We can provide the tools you need to keep your skin milky white, but you must take the actions to prevent sun damage! Learn from my mistake and don't make an irreversible decision to forego protection. C'mon, you should be smarter than a sixteen year old snowboard chick!

The Simple Joys

Last night after work, I ran home to shower and get dressed up for Halloween. Growing up, we were never allowed to celebrate Halloween, so dressing up is kind of a big deal for me. I had no desire to fuss over an outfit or be surrounded by a bunch of drunk people dressed as slutty nurses and scary zombies.

Wrapped in a towel, hair wet, staring at my outfit choices on my bed (Steve Zissou or Suzy Bishop- can you tell I like Wes Anderson films?), my gaze wandered out the window to the evening sky. The sun was about to set and the mountains were wearing caps made out of clouds. Suddenly I felt very claustrophobic. I needed to be outside, to feel the wind in my hair and the chill on my skin. I threw on my Patagonia sweater and a headband, grabbed my headlamp and bear spray and off I went to Club360.

As I drove to my secret hiking spot, I rolled down the windows and blasted bluegrass music through my speakers. I felt so alive, like I was back in North Carolina with Tucker and Dan. When I got out to my secret spot on top of Club360, I opened up my journal and looked at my 360 degree view of the Cascade Mountain Range. The song of the creek below bubbled in my ears. After texting with Crashmead for a little while, I looked up and spotted the first star of the night. I had to smile at the joy it brought me. This was so much better than trying to make new friends at a crowded brewery.

I drove home that night, but didn't feel like my adventure in the outdoors was over. Before falling asleep, I set my alarm to go off a little earlier than normal. This morning, I sleepily filled my mug with some French press and walked through fields of hoarfrost to Matt's grave. I sat and reflected on the life of my dear friend for a bit before heading over to pay my respects to Kyle, Joel, Prissy and Scott.

As I watched the sun rise over the cemetery, took in a deep breath of cold mountain air and sipped my hot coffee, I allowed a smile to spread across my face. I might have to sit at a desk for the rest of my day, but I can rest assured that I took advantage of my time outside of work and spent it doing what I love to do most: Being outdoors surrounded by God's creation appreciating the simple joys in life.

Amen Brother!!!

WATCH THE ROAD!!!

Falling Over The Edge

Green. The grass is green. Four leaf clovers are green. Even Kermit the Frog is green.

You know who else is green? Me.

I came from a triathlon and personal training background. Rigging, climbing and rescue gear: This is all new to me; fortunately, I love to learn and I adapt quickly. So when the CEO of Rescue Response Gear suggested I take the Rigging Physics class at the end of September, I agreed excitedly.

Monday morning, I walked into the classroom, coffee in hand, ready to go. Nine men looked over at me as I took a seat. Some smiled, others gave a doubtful eye. What is this chick doing here? Youngest in the room? Check. Least experienced in the room? Check. Only one without chest hair in the room? Double check.

"Alright, if all y'all had a theme song that played every time you entered a room, what would it be and why," I broke the silence. More silence was the response I received. "C'mon guys," I laughed. "It's eight AM! You should be awake by now!"

Frank, a paramedic from San Diego, played around on his phone nonchalantly. Suddenly, the theme music from Shaft flooded the room, followed by chuckles from the other men. "Who came up with this question," Jim Bolton asked as he set up the rigging physics powerpoint and passed out lengths of rope.

The Rigging Lab at Rescue Response Gear is a state of the art rope access and rope rescue training
facility. We aim to provide top quality, industry standard training taught by elite instructors. We brought
in one of the best instructors in the business, Jim Bolton, for this class. Jim has been in professional
service since 1987. Currently, he works in Nevada as an operator/paramedic for the Reno Fire
Department, but he was willing to take a week to come up and show our class the ropes! He has a vast
knowledge of the subject matter and presented it in a fun yet challenging manner.

"Alright," Jim addressed the class. "I want to see if everyone knows the basics. Tie a figure eight on a bite."

I awkwardly shaped the rope in my fingers, trying to remember what I learned while rock climbing in Wyoming. "Do the disco... the boy is trying to run away from the girl because she has cooties... that is not a figure eight..." Trying to hide my inexperience, my eyes glanced over at my neighbor's rope. A perfect figure eight on a bite met my gaze. In fact, everyone had perfectly dressed knots except for me. This is going to be a long week...

After spending the morning scribbling down notes about simple, compound and complex mechanical advantage systems, we made our way into the rigging lab. I watched as the eyes of the men lit up like little boys in a Star Wars Lego store. "Whoa! This is the spot where they filmed the clip about the CMC MPD!" "Look at all the lights! They could host raves in here!"

"Grab that, that, that and that," Jim pointed at gear and walked outside, waiting for us to follow him. He displayed how to set up multi- and single-point anchors. My head was nodding like I understood exactly what he was showing us, but my brain was desperately trying to grasp both the words Jim was speaking as well as the actions his hands were doing. Jim looked up at the class to confirm that everyone was following along. His gaze met mine. I nodded harder. Yeah, yeah! Totally following, Jim! "Now practice it yourself," he said. Aw shoot. He caught me.

The men grabbed webbing and carabiners and began creating perfect anchor systems. I stood behind and watched them work. The shadow of a man crept beside me and I could feel Jim's presence as he waited for me to explain why I was just standing around. "I'm just watching and learning," I told him.

He handed me some webbing and gestured toward a tree. "Go practice what I just showed. Ask me if you have any questions," he challenged me.

The rest of the week was spent with Jim and the other men challenging and teaching me. At times, it was a humbling experience. I am the type of girl who likes to be acknowledged for areas in which she excels, so being at the bottom of the totem pole, the only one in the class who did not know how to tie a figure eight on a bite, was humiliating at times. What encouraged me was the class participants' ability to teach me without making me feel inferior. Everyone in the class was supportive and encouraging of one another. It was refreshing and made for a positive atmosphere. Friendships were formed quickly, which led to some teasing and witty banter, but it also felt like everyone was on the same team.

One of the many wonderful perks about Rescue Response Gear's Rigging Lab being located in Sisters, Oregon, is the availability of natural resources for training. We spent most of the week outdoors surrounded by the beauty of Smith Rock State Park. After learning the multi-faceted training complex and practicing it in the rigging lab, we applied our new and existing knowledge in more practical situations. This allowed the students to negotiate an edge, practice pick-offs and work with the Vortex and artificial high directionals.

My first time working as an edge guy, I hooked myself up to the system, was safety checked and slowly backed up over the edge. Next thing I knew, my feet flew up over my head, my hands grabbed for the rock and a curse word escaped my lips. The deep laughter of nine men was all I could hear from the ledge. "Was that Ashlee?" No one expected the F-word to fly out of my mouth. I quickly readjusted myself and struggled to position myself on the rock.

Struggle. This class was definitely a struggle; it stretched my physical limits and my knowledge base. I was amazed by what these men are capable of doing. The demands placed on their body are great. After just one day of trying to lead a haul crew or set up a belay system, I was exhausted. I gained an incredible amount of respect for firemen and paramedics. Without taking this class, I never would have understood not only how these various products work, but also how much devotion, dedication and perseverance rescue situations require.

I recently heard a story about a master Kung Fu teacher who had earned multiple black belts and was one of the best Kung Fu artists of his time. Despite his hard work and accomplishments, he requested that upon his death, he be buried wearing a white belt, the sign of a beginner. This white belt would symbolize that the master still had more to learn and would always be in a state of learning.

As humans, we will always be learning. In fact, I strive to learn at least one new thing every single day. We may develop a vast amount of experience and knowledge, but there is always more to learn. Whether you have been working in the industry since you graduated high school or if you are green like me, I highly recommend taking a Rigging Physics class. Come into the class with an open mind and a desire to learn and I guarantee you will take a lot out of the experience!

Shifting Gears

I had a beautiful breakdown last night. The night sky was dark, the stars barely visible despite the clear, crisp air. Maybe it wasn't a bad day, but it was an off day. Nothing felt right. The night prior, I had an intense, amazing conversation with God. It felt really good and I thought, "This is it. This is the type of relationship for which I have been searching."

But yesterday left me wondering what was wrong. There was no explanation for my lack of energy. Even on my lunch break, I had to drag myself to the gym. Once there, I assumed my endorphins would be given a boost, but every minute on that darn elliptical ticked by like I was waiting for a class to end.

My body is totally worn down and I don't know why. My workouts have been lackluster; when they are finished, I am glad I did them, but the action of running or cycling or Pilates... it all seems like a chore. A necessary evil. Working out has never felt like that for me. Sluggish, lethargic, unmotivated... now that I can use my leg to an extent, what has been holding me back?

I sat in my car, staring at the road ahead and just praying to God. Wow. It felt like he kept pouring all of these words into my heart and I was completely receptive. No, I didn't leave the conversation feeling totally energized. I didn't go out and run without pain today. In fact, the cycle class I took today absolutely sucked and I felt worse than I ever have before. BUT that's okay. It is a call to shift focus from what I want for my life and my selfish reasons for getting fit and active again. It is a call to redirect my attention to my spiritual walk with God.

Sometimes God gives us exactly what we ask for in ways we never expected or ever could have imagined.