That Time I Thought I Was Pregnant With a Whale Baby

Many women have pregnancy scares at one time in their life, right? Well, mine happened when I was 17.

Seventeen? Oh my goodness! Ashlee is such a sl#*. I never would have guessed! 

Yeah... this wasn't your typical pregnancy scare.

I can't believe Ashlee was having sex when she was 17!!!

Alright, guys, c'mon! Stop jumping to conclusions and just listen up!

So, I was raised in a super protective home. When Matt Ruettgers asked me on our first date, our fathers went with us. Just Matt, me and our dads sitting in the theater for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Yup, pretty darn snazzy.

Oh don't worry, it gets worse.

There is a kissing scene in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. So what did my dad do when the warrior leaned in to kiss his karate princess? He reached his arm over and covered my eyes. Yes, sirreebob. He covered my 12-year-old eyes. Thanks so much, Daddy, for making my first date so memorable.

That was what my upbringing was like. Sex existed, sure. I knew that babies were not carried by storks, of course. What I did not know was the exact rules and regulations behind what it took to get pregnant.

It was summer of 2005. I had spent a month working at a YoungLife camp. One of my buddies found out I was leaving for surf camp the following week and decided to tell me a very pertinent fact about whales: Did you know a whale ejaculates 2,000 sperm into the ocean per day? No, no, in fact, I did not.

That scientific fact stuck in my head the entire week of camp. I am swimming in sperm. How many whales live in the ocean? How much sperm is floating around, getting in my mouth and other unmentionable places? Great...

Surf camp ended. I stayed in San Diego a few more weeks for volleyball camp before flying back to Oregon. Two months passed and I did not get my period. Keep in mind, in high school, I only got my period maybe 3-4 times a year. But when you have been surrounded by whale sperm 8 hours a day for an entire week, you forget all logical rhyme or reason.

Another month passed. I am going to give birth to a baby who is half whale, half man. What will my parents think? What will my town think? 

I stressed and spent sleepless nights tormented by my supposed whale fetus. Eek!

Something had to be done. I needed to know for sure what was going to become of my future! Finally, I went to Target and bought a pregnancy test. I couldn't take the test in a public restroom. Ew! So I took it home in an empty soda pop cup.

First test. Negative.

Second test. Negative... wait, are two lines good or bad?!

Third test. I'm so confused!!!! Am I preggers or am I good to go?

Moral of the story: Teach your kids the importance of using protection while swimming in the ocean!

When Your Dreams Take Off And Leave You Behind

Two days ago, Kara Goucher announced her decision to pull out of the ING New York City Marathon. In her blog, (please see blog here: http://www.runtheedge.com/2013/09/letting-go-of-a-dream/), she speaks of her injury, her road to recovery and her difficult decision to pull out of the race.

As I read her words, I couldn't help but empathize with her. A lump formed in my throat and my heart was filled with sorrow. For those of you who don't know Kara, she is an Olympian long-distance runner. She is one of the runners I respect immensely because she has sheer determination. This determination is shown in the way she writes, the way she preps for race season and the way she dominates.

I know what Kara is going through. I know what it is like to give everything you have to accomplish a goal then have it come back and bite you in the (synonym for donkey). You pray to God wondering why He would allow such a thing to happen. You cry yourself to sleep some nights. You try to push a workout you know you shouldn't do. At the end, you are left icing and elevating while you watch your dreams grow little wings and take off with the speed of a cheetah on rocket-powered rollerblades. How did that darn cheetah get ahold of your rocket-powered rollerblades?

Last year, I wrote a blog about getting married to running (see blog here: http://ashleetrisharder.blogspot.com/2012/09/wedding-invitation.html). I spoke about my greatest running role model, Drea. Thinking I was complimenting her in the blog, I told her she should check it out. She sought me out at work and sat me down, expressing her frustration with the words I had written."You don't realize how hard it is to be married to running," she told me. She was completely right. I didn't. I still don't. In response to my blog, she wrote:

Well if you marry the running that I married (16 years ago) then you will get up every day at 5am to get it done, you'll get your heartbroken over injuries and you'll get excited over success, you'll be doubted, you'll be tested, you'll be punished physically and mentally, and you'll find joy. You'll do it everyday- because you love it- you thrive in it. You'll find you don't get out what you put in. You'll find luck exists and success is personal. You won't get thanked by running- you'll do all the thanking. That the thing with passions- if it's important to you, you will find the time and energy to do it. Where there's a will, there is a way. That doesn't mean you get YOUR WAY. And people looking in on your relationship will always think the grass looks green. Well maybe it is- but that's because I WATERED IT. Get over the rich husband comments girls- it's sharp rocks on the trail.

Running is hard. You may devote yourself to running, but running may not devote itself to you. Sometimes, God has different plans. I had made running an idol. Just like I make fitness and being in shape idols, I idolized the idea of being one of the best runners in my town. Respected, admired, adored... My dream left me before I could even start chasing it. Now I can't even walk without my foot swelling up and sharp pain shooting up my peronial tendon. It freaking sucks.

So my heart goes out to runners like Kara, like Drea (http://www.twomotivate.com/), like Jesse Thomas (who recently had surgery on his foot) (http://leapdaysports.com/) and like my friend Robyn (http://runprettyrunfast.com/). All of these runners (not to mention the thousands of other devoted athletes) who have experienced the heartache of getting the carpet (or the track, in this case) pulled out from under them. Keep pushing for your dreams. When you have to make new goals, don't give up. In the words of the oh-so-wise Vanilla Ice, Anything less than the best is a felony. Keep pushing. Keep aiming. Keep missing. Keep growing. Keep striving. Keep on keepin' on.

How I Survived the Zombie Apocalypse

There are certain people in this world who truly bring out the best in you. I have been blessed to know many people who do this for me. This weekend, I was able to spend time with three of them.

1   1. Sophia Maria Tortilla Garcia. Sophia and I worked together at the YMCA and we lived together for a little while, too. When I first met her, I remember thinking she was snooty. For some reason, we went on a run together and from that point on, we were hooked to one another. When I am around Sophia, I feel like a better person. Suddenly, I am funnier and crazier. I’m wild and free and adventurous. We always have so much fun together. Well, I hope she has fun. I know I do. I mean, who wouldn’t have fun talking with a horrific southern accent, dancing on the counter in Albina Press and singing F.U.N. songs at the top of your lungs while butchering the lyrics?

      We really did have a wonderful time together. The first evening I picked her up, we met up with my family for Salt & Straw Ice Cream. I had the lavender honey with a scoop of Hawaiian peanut butter and jelly. Something was said and I squeaked quite loudly and scared a man in line. On our way to the creamery, I asked Kaylee to drive because my foot was hurting me. As we pulled up to a stop sign, a homeless man began walking toward us like a zombie. Kaylee got nervous and couldn’t figure out how to lock my car doors. The man ran into the car and smooshed his body against the window. He proceeded to lick the window then inch his way toward the door handle. I calmly locked the door and Kaylee gunned on the gas, pulling out right in front of another car. I am happy to say, we survived the zombie apocalypse part 1.

The next day, we pulled ourselves out of bed and grabbed coffee at Bipartisan before driving downtown for the Saturday Market.

“Hide everything in your car,” my parents warned me. “If a homeless person sees any sort of food, drink or anything that can be used as a weapon, they WILL break in.” And my parents wonder why Kaylee is so paranoid…

After looking at the booths and watching a street performer, we decided to move on to the Hawthorne District, where we browsed the shops, ate a waffle from the Waffle Window and grabbed coffee at Albina Press. As soon as I walked into the shop, a flashback of an afternoon spent there with Ryan, Jordan and Heather flooded my mind. Déjà vu. I pulled out my camera and began taking pictures of Sophia and my family. Dad said we should get a photo in front of the bat, but Sophia didn’t want to stand on the counter with me, so I stood alone and danced a jig for the photo shoot. Hey, I’m just trying to play my part in keeping Portland weird!

Sophia and I left the group and drove out to Multnomah Falls where we hiked up to Devil’s Point and back around to Wakheena Falls. So beautiful! One thing I love about Sophia is she is willing to be active and outdoorsy with me. Randomly, we bumped into a family from the YMCA. The wife informed Sophia that since they ran into her in Portland, it must be a sign that she is supposed to move here. By golly, I do concur!

About 3 miles into the hike, we ran into a woman who said there was no way we would finish the hike by nightfall. Sophia seemed hesitant to keep going, but I was stubborn. “Oh yeah,” I assured her. “We will turn around at the bridge.” I was lying through my teeth. I knew we were not going to pass the bridge on our excursion so we could keep going and not turn around. Turned out to be a good idea though, because the hike was gorgeous! And we made it with plenty of time to spare. Well, maybe not plenty. We had to rush back to the hotel and throw on clothes before meeting Kaylee for a show: Hannah Glavor and the Family Band, The Show Ponies and Deerborn/Josef all played at the Secret Society.

We walked into the venue and as we were paying, I caught a glimpse of an old friend. “Kaylee,” I screamed above the music. “There’s Caitlin!” I hadn’t seen Caitlin in 9 years and it was so fun to bump into her. We spent the rest of the evening enjoying great music, teasing Kaylee’s hippy guy friends, checking out magnificent mustaches and being in the moment.

Sunday was filled with church at Solid Rock, brunch at La Provence and me using a very poor accent at LuluLemon. “Oh yeah, hi, Sugar. I would if all y’all could be a doll and get me a dressing room.”

“Why are you talking like that,” Kaylee asked.

“Because I can,” I explained.

“That is a terrible accent. It doesn’t sound believable in the slightest,” Kaylee informed me.

Giggle, giggle. “I know.” Giggle giggle.

I drove Sophia back to her parents while singing at the top of my lungs and thought to myself, “How lucky I am to be single and free and young! I can do whatever I want whenever I want to do it and I love my life!” I am just so thankful that I was able to spend the weekend with such a dear friend.

2    2.   Kaylee. My sister is such a doll. As we were fist pumping and feeding off of each other’s energy, I couldn’t help but cherish the fact that I love her. So many sisters have awkward relationships where they don’t relate to one another or enjoy the other’s company. Kaylee and I are two very different women, yet we complete each other in a way. I respect her so much and have such a great admiration for her as a sister, a woman and a follower of Christ. She is hysterical and I can’t help but define my six-pack when I am around her. God blessed me greatly with the relationship I have with Kaylee. Honestly, we are probably the cutest sisters ever.

3. Parker. The first time I met Parker, he thought I was in high school... I was 25-years-old at the time... four years older than him. He was persistent in spending time with me. My foot had absolutely no range of motion, yet he insisted we go on a bike ride... followed by salad eating... followed by paddle boarding and getting our things locked in a bistro. All of the adventures we had this summer were exciting and memorable. The first thing I noticed about Parker was that our conversation always flowed incredibly well. You put us together and we are just two peas in a pod: Both Norwegian athletes who don't eat meat and enjoy kicking butt. There has never been an awkward pause in the conversation; one conversation always leads to another and there is so much to say. I don't think it's possible not to smile around Parker; he has the ability to make everyone he is around feel like a million dollars. We went to dinner on my way out of Portland this weekend and even the waitress was our best friend by the end of the night, just because Parker really makes an effort to get to know people and he genuinely cares about them.

All of these individuals have had a profound impact on my life. I was so blessed to be able to spend the weekend with them.

Learning How To Be Cute Again

My last boyfriend did not like when I did cute things for him. I once spent five hours drawing a picture of a fish for him. The next day, he threw it out. After learning he did this with every letter I wrote him, every picture I drew, etc. because he didn't want to be a pack rat, I stopped doing cute things for him. I still bought him surprise coffees and made him good luck packages for his races, but I stopped putting effort into being that sweet, adorable girlfriend I used to be.

I did not want to put effort and time into something that was not going to be saved and cherished.

That boy and I broke up almost two years ago now and I have not dated since. Honestly, I have had no desire to try to be a girlfriend. I became so used to wearing my Lulus all day everyday. Even going out to dinner required more effort to get ready than I wanted to give... and all that really meant was brushing my hair, throwing on a cute top and pulling up a pair of jeans. Honestly, I became lazy, but I lived in an environment where that was okay. I was a group fitness instructor and an athlete. There was no need to invest time into being cute.

Then I realized something. People appreciate the cute things I do. When I was moving out of my apartment, I left simple poems on heart shaped paper taped to my roommate's door. She recently posted a photo on Facebook and those poems are still on her door. Not everyone will recognize your hard work, but one or two may treasure those little notes or that hand drawn card for the rest of their life.

Also, now that I have an office job, I have started dressing up for work: A flowy summer dress, a black blazer over fresh-pressed jeans. Who knows... maybe I'll even learn how to wear makeup soon!

I am so excited to invest in my creative, artistic side again. Recently, an old friend of mine moved out of the Pacific Northwest. He confided in me that he missed it a lot, so I decided to put together a PNW care package for him. Inside, he will receive coffee beans from a local coffee shop, a coffee mug, a book from Powell's, two mixed CD's with hand-drawn CD covers (every track is a band/musician from Oregon or Washington), Portland's infamous hot sauce, etc. I can't wait until he receives it! I'll be sure to post photos when it is complete. Here are the CD covers though:

Make Me a Spartan

Adrenaline pulses through the sea of mohawks, over-grown muscles and unshaved armpits. I have never been surrounded by this much testosterone. A leg brushes mine and I can feel the long, matted hair sticking out from it. The leg has come from a man on my right, who is clad in the shortest, most revealing bright pink spandex I have ever witnessed. He looks at me, a smile plastered to his face, as if he just got off a roller coaster and his face remained windblown. Pure joy is all I can see in his eyes.

My friends are dressed up as super heroes: Batman, Spiderman, Wonderwoman... the gang's all here. Who am I? Black Widow, of course! Hello, black latex! *Note to self: Black Widow may look great kicking bad guy butt in a tight latex suit, but I guarantee she is sweating buckets inside, wondering when she can go home and put on her baggy sweatpants.

"That's my girl," a finger points at me. Everyone turns and looks in my direction. No, that is no exaggeration. The finger belongs to the MC, who just happens to be my friend. Thanks, Sean. I sink back into the crowd as he tells all of these Marines, firefighters and Cross-fitters how I am going to kick their butts. Please, God, let the latex do for me what it did for Cat Woman in The Dark Night Rises.

I watch as heats of competitors are called out and begin making their way to the first obstacle. Each team has a different strength. The Cross-fitters perfect the tire flips and burpees; the firefighters can climb that rope and the walls like it is nobody's business; Army men make the cargo nets look like an easy obstacle, which it definitely is not... especially not when you try to do it in latex #WorstIdeaEver. Everyone has their strengths and everyone has their weaknesses. What amazes me though, is the teamwork aspect of the race. As a triathlete, I have competed in mostly races where you are only out to beat the next guy. At the Spartan Race, every participant is willing to help the individual next to him or her. It isn't a competition to see who can win at the expense of anyone else; it is a challenge that everyone is experiencing together. Team member or not, you can rely on the person next to you to give you a hand.

For example, as I struggle up a wall covered in mud, a man in his mid-fifties grabs my foot and gives me an unexpected lift. I don't even have time to thank him before I somersault over the other side and land on my butt. A woman with her hair falling over her eyes lands next to me and offers me a lift up before dashing off to the next wall. Neither of these people know who I am, but they are willing to take time off of their overall score to help me. This is what I love about the Spartan Race: Camaraderie. 

Rescue Response Gear specializes in technical rescue and rope access equipment. In our mission statement, we reference Habakkuk 3:19, which states: "The Sovereign God is my strength. He makes my feet like the feet of a deer (ibex). He makes me go to the heights (mountains)." We aspire to be outdoors in God's creation pushing our limits and discovering new abilities. We want to inspire and encourage others to do the same with their lives.

We believe the Spartan Race is a fun, dirty and tough challenge to "test your mental and emotional fitness and push you past your limits" (www.spartanrace.com). This is what we are called to do as Christians, to continue to grow and excel. Reebok Spartan Race has also partnered with GovX to offer a registration discount to U.S. Military service members and government first responders as a thank you for all they do for our country. The discount is $30 off all U.S. race registrations if you are a verified active, reserve or veteran U.S. Military service member or active first responder.

To access discounts for Spartan Race and the entire GovX network, eligible members can register for free at www.GovX.com. A portion of the proceeds GovX receives go towards further support of those in uniform.

We would like to offer you the chance to sign up for an opportunity to win a free entry spot in one of the 2013 Spartan Races. Please sign up on our website: www.rescueresponse.com/blog. If you are not in the military, you can still sign up to win! I have a coupon code for non-military entrants, so let me know if you want the code! And tell your friends!