"Stick to your knitting" is a wonderful old phrase. It's modern equivalent is something like "keep on keeping on."
You'll notice that my blog posts have been increasing lately. That's because I'm not writing a book, quite frankly. I'm stewing on my new one, so you get the so-called-benefit of blog posts on a more regular basis. Because everyone likes it when they're regular.
The blog posts, of course I mean.
When I go radio silent, or the posts trail off, that's a clue that I'm using my words elsewhere. The incredible David Thorne confessed to this recently - as readers, we want NEW stuff - so he stopped posting his witticisms on his site and focused them all into new stuff for his book. My all-time favorite is still Missing Missy. Some people have a whole 'nother gear of snark. Mad respect. Really, I am mad at him but respect him so much.
Today I ran a trail 10k - the "Seward Solstice." The course was ridiculous, practically the Warrior Dash in it's muddiness. The rain didn't help, but the start and finish of the THREE LAP course looked like a mud wrestling pit by the time I reached the finish. Mental note: if you finish sooner, you stay in front of the people who muck up the course. A note to the reader: try not to finish behind me because I am one of those people.
Seward Park, which in my 20 years in Seattle's environs I have magically avoided somehow, is a lovely park jutting out on a tiny peninsula into Lake Washington. On a dry day, I'm sure it's lovely, though the part of the trail we ran was ridiculously technical at times, carefully picking our way over logs on a narrow trail filled with roots and mud.
I think of knitting today, probably in part because by the time we finished the course we were soaked and caked with mud. Cold. Wet. And coveting warmth.
There was a whole lot of nature on the trail, and I think I'm wearing most of it.
Actually, I think that this 10k was harder in some ways than the half-marathon I ran in Seattle three weeks ago. Running laps will make you mental. The second lap is ho-hum but hard and the third lap is brutal. That and the hopping over, ducking under, skidding along at times on the mud makes me think that I'll feel this run in different muscles entirely. Not a bad thing, but boy was it challenging.
So why did I open with knitting? Because somewhere along the line I decided that I'm going to keep going with this running thing, despite overwhelming evidence that I am pretty terrible at it. Since running is a personal journey, sucking at a personal journey is a kind of affront to humanity. So like a good marriage we will stick with each other, running and I, through thick and thin, no matter how much I carouse around with weight training or yard work, and refuse to do the laundry.
So stick to your knitting, even if you are terrible at it.
Here's a guy who isn't terrible at it. David Babcock knit a full-length scarf with his hands while running the New York Marathon. He has the world record for longest scarf knit while running a marathon. What's most astonishing is not that he knits while running, not that he doesn't use needles. What's most astonishing to me is that there is a world record for the length of a scarf knitted while running a marathon. This is amazingly specific, isn't it? I imagine it's not a huge category for Guinness, but there you go, a guy who sticks to his knitting.
You'll notice that my blog posts have been increasing lately. That's because I'm not writing a book, quite frankly. I'm stewing on my new one, so you get the so-called-benefit of blog posts on a more regular basis. Because everyone likes it when they're regular.
The blog posts, of course I mean.
When I go radio silent, or the posts trail off, that's a clue that I'm using my words elsewhere. The incredible David Thorne confessed to this recently - as readers, we want NEW stuff - so he stopped posting his witticisms on his site and focused them all into new stuff for his book. My all-time favorite is still Missing Missy. Some people have a whole 'nother gear of snark. Mad respect. Really, I am mad at him but respect him so much.
Today I ran a trail 10k - the "Seward Solstice." The course was ridiculous, practically the Warrior Dash in it's muddiness. The rain didn't help, but the start and finish of the THREE LAP course looked like a mud wrestling pit by the time I reached the finish. Mental note: if you finish sooner, you stay in front of the people who muck up the course. A note to the reader: try not to finish behind me because I am one of those people.
Seward Park, which in my 20 years in Seattle's environs I have magically avoided somehow, is a lovely park jutting out on a tiny peninsula into Lake Washington. On a dry day, I'm sure it's lovely, though the part of the trail we ran was ridiculously technical at times, carefully picking our way over logs on a narrow trail filled with roots and mud.
I think of knitting today, probably in part because by the time we finished the course we were soaked and caked with mud. Cold. Wet. And coveting warmth.
There was a whole lot of nature on the trail, and I think I'm wearing most of it.
Actually, I think that this 10k was harder in some ways than the half-marathon I ran in Seattle three weeks ago. Running laps will make you mental. The second lap is ho-hum but hard and the third lap is brutal. That and the hopping over, ducking under, skidding along at times on the mud makes me think that I'll feel this run in different muscles entirely. Not a bad thing, but boy was it challenging.
So why did I open with knitting? Because somewhere along the line I decided that I'm going to keep going with this running thing, despite overwhelming evidence that I am pretty terrible at it. Since running is a personal journey, sucking at a personal journey is a kind of affront to humanity. So like a good marriage we will stick with each other, running and I, through thick and thin, no matter how much I carouse around with weight training or yard work, and refuse to do the laundry.
So stick to your knitting, even if you are terrible at it.
Here's a guy who isn't terrible at it. David Babcock knit a full-length scarf with his hands while running the New York Marathon. He has the world record for longest scarf knit while running a marathon. What's most astonishing is not that he knits while running, not that he doesn't use needles. What's most astonishing to me is that there is a world record for the length of a scarf knitted while running a marathon. This is amazingly specific, isn't it? I imagine it's not a huge category for Guinness, but there you go, a guy who sticks to his knitting.
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