Oh, Baby, You're A Classic

In the winter of 2007, I was living in a small town called Estes Park, Colorado. My boyfriend at the time came out to visit me and arrived the day before the new Fall Out Boy album Infinity on High arrived in stores. Zach (the boyfriend) was an avid musician who was inspired predominately by the works of Fall Out Boy. He and I were listening to FOB even before My Heart Will Always Be The B-Side To My Tongue came out in 2004. We purchased the CD at a Starbucks of all places and listened to it on repeat for the next 6 days. And when I say we listened to it on repeat, I mean we listened to it on repeat on a road trip that lasted 48 hours. Fall Out Boy for 48 hours. Put that CD on seven years later and I still know EVERY. SINGLE. LYRIC. Thank God for that. Best album ever!

I will always be a Fall Out Boy fan. They have gotten a little strange on their latest album. No longer do they struggle to fill the room at a small local venue; these days, tickets to their shows are hundreds of dollars. Believe me, I know: I have been researching tickets for the past three years. I remember when I saw them with 26 other people in the room; it felt more like a house party than a show.

I digress...

A week ago, I asked my friends to suggest names for my new bike, a Felt DA4. Great names were suggested: Tron, My Man, White Lightning, The Chain Smoker and Polar Vortex, to name a few. Well the tallies are in and the winner is... none of the above.

Being a StarWars fan, DeathStar was a consideration, but after my accident, my mom nixed that name.

I seriously considered naming him "My A Game" because I could say things like "Yeah, I'm going to Wildflower this year. And I'm bringing My A Game!" My name is Ashlee... starts with an A... clever, right?

Making myself appear incredibly dorky by saying shiz like that just sounded awesome, so I decided to take that route, but "My A Game" was just too much of a mouthful.

Why in the world did she include that Fall Out Boy story when obviously it has nothing to do with this blog post?!

Oh, right! Fall Out Boy! Thanks for reminding me.

The lovely boys of FOB have a song called She's My Winona. The chorus goes:

Daddy said you gotta show the world the thunder
Whoa the thunder

Thunder. There is a mighty power behind a bolt of thunder...Plus, if I name my bike "The Thunder", he already has a theme song. SOLD.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to The Thunder (Please play theme song while looking at my new boyfriend with ooo's and aww's):

My Takeover, The Break's Over

The doctor was wrong. He was so wrong. I knew he was wrong the moment he told me I would never run again.

Okay, that's a lie. When the words, "You will NEVER run again" came out of his mouth, I bit my tongue (because for some reason, I always think that will keep the tears back... it never works) and tried to mentally tell the redness in my cheeks to go away. After I left the doctor's office that day, I sat in the back of the car, crumpled into a little ball and cried like a drama queen with no audience. I remember wanting to scream and shout and get angry, but at the same time I just wanted to be in silence. Half of me wanted to be held and comforted while the other half wanted to be alone. I was a mess of emotions in a ball on the backseat. THEN I knew he was wrong. So I guess it wasn't immediate. 

But my physical therapist is awesome. He knew what he was doing. Being a competitive runner himself, he told me to listen to my body. For the first time since... ever, I did not push when it hurt. I did not try to run when I knew my foot would not be able to take the force of impact. I waited patiently. When I was given exercises that were dull and seemed like "time-wasters", I did them. 

And guess what? I went on a 10-mile trail run yesterday. My second run since my surgery. Two weeks ago, I did a quick 5-mile run with Nani and yesterday, Nicole joined me for 10. So take that, man who hit me, doctor who said I would never run again and my stupid anterior cruciate tendon! This is proof that hard work, determination, patience and perseverance PAYS OFF.

Watch out, guys! I'm ready to take over because my break is over!

You Are What You Love, Not Who Loves You

Despite the fact that listening to Fall Out Boy sometimes renders me the appearance of a 15-year-old pop punk/ pop rock/ emo loving girl, I cannot deny the fact that they make my life epicly fantastic. Their new CD, Save Rock and Roll, though not my favorite of their CDs, is still hauntingly beautiful and irresistibly catchy.

In the title track of their April album, Patrick Stump melodically reminds the listener: "You are what you love, not who loves you."

Let me repeat that until it sticks.

You are what you love, not who loves you.
You are what you love, not who loves you.
YOU ARE WHAT YOU LOVE, NOT WHO LOVES YOU.

I went through a season in my life right after high school where four out of my five best friends got married; most of these girls were only 19-years-of-age. Naturally, when my boyfriend of less than a year proposed we do the same thing, I eagerly accepted the idea. I was almost nineteen; I was getting old! And we were such a happy little music-loving, goofy, outdoorsy couple with tremendous ambitions and drive.

Then one day I realized that our paths were taking different directions. I was determined to chase what I loved, which was the pursuit of knowledge and adventure. Though he was willing to give up his dreams to help me achieve mine, I couldn't ask my boyfriend to be anyone less than who he was. He was an incredibly talented musician and the Oregon artist-scene needed him more than I did. Asking him to forsake his calling to follow me to Santa Barbara would have been breaking the 6th commandment: Thou shalt not kill. I would have murdered his musical production and graphic design dreams.

As I dated throughout college and after, I noticed that I was picking up hobbies and passions from my different relationships. I began to use my newly discovered interests to become a more talented, knowledgeable and capable woman. I could have chosen one activity to focus my energy on, but what fun is that? Sure, I could be the best female surfer on this side of the Americas by choosing to live, eat and breath surfing, but then I would not be here writing a blog about swimming, biking and running. I could have decided that because Derek loved baseball, baseball would be the one and only thing I would pursue. If that was the case, I would not have been true to myself; Instead, I would have been who loved me, not what I love.

What is it that I love? What makes me happy (other than playing the air guitar to FOB, of course)? Teaching, wearing flannel, being with my family, incredible friendships, trail running... all of these things bring me immense happiness.

I have seen too many people give up their essences and the characteristics that define them in order to be the perfect man or woman for the individual they are dating. No, no, no and again I say NO! Knock it off! You may think that boy you are swooning over in math class won't notice you unless you are wearing hipster glasses like Taylor Swift and carrying a TI-89. Maybe the cute girl you met at the track last Tuesday morning will notice you if you improve your 5k times or you buy those flashy neon Nike Free's. But if you hate math or if running brings you more blisters than it does feelings of satisfaction, forget about it. Pursue the things you love and people who love the same thing will naturally come into your life.

Be who you love.

Yes, that does mean I will be starting a Fall Out Boy tribute band where I teach my family and friends the band's lyrics while wearing flannel and running across the Pacific Crest Trail. Hey, if you love it, be it!

Happy Fall Out Boy Day

I'm boring but overcompensate with headlines and flash, flash, flash photography.