Way back in 2008, during the Summer Olympics, I decided to participate in my first (and to date, only) knit-along (KAL) through Ravelry. They had a big to-do called the Ravelympics, wherein the goal was to knit a project in its entirety between the opening and closing ceremonies. Despite being neither much of a joiner nor a particularly speedy knitter, I decided to participate and knit this super-cool looking skirt I had come across.
I joined a team, picked an event, wrote a blog post announcing my intentions, and, at the appointed time, I cast on and started knitting. Shortly thereafter, I started ripping back. I cast on again, got a ways further, and ripped some more. I got further on my third try, but it still wasn’t going well. By the time the Olympic flame was extinguished, my enthusiasm for the project had gone with it, and I didn’t pick up the skirt for months.
Since then, I’ve ripped it back nearly to the begining and got it moving in the right direction at last, but producing the miles and miles of stockinette stitch required to get from my waist to my knees is no small task, and I eventually lost my mojo again.
In less than a half-hour, though, another Olympic opening ceremony will start in Vancouver, and I’m going to honor the occasion by picking up the skirt again. I still love the pattern and want to actually wear the dang thing someday — and, well, it’s proven that it’s not going to knit itself. (Because that would have happened by now, right?)
This time, though, I’m not knitting along. I haven’t joined the 2010 Ravelympics and I didn’t register for the Yarn Harlot’s Knitting Olympics. I’m just knitting for me, and for a skirt that deserves to exist. Wish me luck.