This week I’m in limbo. Living somewhere between not feeling bad, but not feeling good, I’ve been working on something that requires what feels like miles of P2K2 ribbing. Boring you say? Maybe in the usual time and the usual place. Instead I find myself thinking back to the days when I used to run. We’re not talking marathons or anything, and definitely no speed records here, but a good 5 miles every morning way back when. There’s a point, when you’re running for distance, at which the rhythm of your feet matches the rhythm of your heart, everything pumping together in harmony and you feel like you could go on like that forever, lost in your runner’s high, thinking of nothing but the moment that you’re in, the goodness of your body and the joy in movement. Maybe this is the thing called zen, or meditation; a stillness of your soul. Knitting miles of ribbing the past two days, those old feelings have resurfaced. The monotonous P2K2, instead of slowly squeezing out the joy in knitting, recreates those feelings that running used to give me. I’m feeling still and meditative. Peaceful. No worry about the throbbing in my knee or when exactly I’ll be “normal” again. Nothing but the rhythm of my fingers, my heart, the yarn and the stitches moving softly from one needle to the other. The balm for my soul that I’ve been needing. And that’s what’s keeping me going the distance.