In which knitting teaches me a lesson about running

This week I thought I’d gone off knitting. It was an unpleasant experience, not least because of the sense of panic about the two large crates of wool that live in the spare room and periodically spill out into the rest of the house (it’s like the War of the Worlds in the front sometimes).

It all started when I started to knit a scarf with some wool I picked up in Edinburgh. It’s a lovely pattern but I just couldn’t get into it (despite changing colours and restarting it what seemed like a hundred times). Meanwhile I had resumed my masterplan project (it’s lived with us so long that if we moved I would have to declare it as a sitting tennant). This is a thing of great beauty but is an unwieldy pain in the bum.

The problem was that after all this Serious Knitting, I was fed up and ready to hang up my needles. Obviously I didn’t. What I did was knit something small and silly as a Christmas present (I like to throw that out there to create a feeling of dread amongst my family…) and you know what? Within 24 hours I remembered that I bloody love knitting.

And how can I shoehorn this into a metaphor about running? Well, some days it’s very easy to get hung up on Serious Running and forget the joy of running for running’s sake. Go out and remember that feeling – it’s just like knitting a banana.

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