Red, White, and Yarn

            As we all know, the Olympic Games are a big deal. Athletes train their entire lives just to have a chance at competing. The strength and ability that the participants have is astounding, and for a little over two weeks, the world is enthralled by the talent they display. This year the games were held in London, a city saturated in history and exuding tradition. For those en route to England, it was the chance of a lifetime; for the rest of us, it was an opportunity for diversion from the typical. Life’s mad dash slowed a bit as so many focused their eyes on the world’s youth, living vicariously through their quest for glory.
            I cannot be excluded from that group of people who almost constantly tuned in to the excitement that is the Olympics. Though I always prefer the winter Olympics over the summer, I eagerly anticipated July 28^th, the day of the opening ceremony. Not only was I excited to cheer on our U.S. athletes, I was also eager for the kickoff of the Ravelinic Games. The Ravelinic Games is a knitting event cooked up by the social media website called Ravelry. This site is dedicated to knitters, crocheters, weavers, spinners, and other fiber freaks. Here we can share the items we’ve made, find patterns, discover new yarn, and connect with people who share our passion. A few years ago, when a different Olympics was on the horizon, an inspired member of Ravelry, along with those who run the site sent out a challenge to their fellow fiber-loving friends: create something special, something that challenges you, something that will show off your skills while the athletes at the games show off theirs. At this time, the event was called the Ravelympics. The name was changed this year due to controversy over whether or not using the name “Ravelympics” was a mockery of the real Olympic Games; the dispute was resolved after an apology letter was sent from the U.S. Olympic Committee to appease outraged Ravelry members.
          While many on Ravelry created teams and competed in actual “competitions” (like sock knitting, afghan making, etc.), we at Yarnology decided to take the casual route. We told our patrons that if they would like to participate all they had to do was cast on a project the day of the opening ceremony and cast off the day of the closing ceremony. Many chose something that they had never knitted before, thinking this was a good chance to challenge themselves; some decided to finally make that piece that had been calling their name for so long; others took this opportunity to use up some yarn in their stash and finish a project that they had been putting off. I did a combination of the three.
            A while ago I purchased yarn to make a skirt out of one of my lace knitting books. Though I sometimes claim to be a lace knitter, I’ve really only knit a few lace projects, which is certainly not enough to be considered an expert. I looked forward to the time when I could complete this skirt and display the work that went into my handmade piece of clothing. That was, however, about a year ago… The yarn, wound and ready to go, sat patiently inside a brown paper bag waiting to be turned into something beautiful. When deliberating about what project to make throughout the two weeks of the Olympics, I remembered my blue yarn that was meant for that lace skirt and I dived right in. There were a few moments when I thought for sure that I wasn’t going to get that project done in time, but remarkably I did. I bound off my last stitch two minutes before midnight on the 12^th of August, just hours after the closing ceremony was complete. I confess that I felt a huge sense of accomplishment; nothing, I’m sure to what the Olympians were feeling at that moment, but great nonetheless.
            Last night, Thursday August 16^th, a large group of knitters gathered at Yarnology to show off what they had completed and admire each other’s items. Amid the talking and laughing, the Yarnology staff passed out “medals” to those who had participated and gathered. Our quirky awards were things like “The Michael Phelps Award” for most projects completed or attempted, “The Katie Ledecky Award” for newest knitter, and “The Gaby Douglas Award” for smallest project. It was such a blast not only to see the projects our friends had made, but to gather and share something in common with everyone else in the room. I suppose that’s what the Olympics are all about: coming together no matter what differences exist, and sharing a passion with those around you. I’m always sad when the Olympics end, but in two years there will be another set of games with different events, new athletes, and more knitting projects to enthrall us.

My blue lace skirt:

Some of the wonderful people who came to celebrate the Ravelinic Games with us at Yarnology.