Monday, November 17, 2008

How to Knit a Sock

I have been an occasional knitter since high school when my mother and I made an afghan together. She let me choose the colors. I chose three shades of blue. We were both very proud of it. It was a mess.

Since then, I have also knitted two sweaters and many, many scarves. Scarves are my best thing. I can hear all you real knitters laughing out there, exclaiming, "What a poser!" You'd be right. 

Nonetheless, with the approach of winter here in Maine, I began thinking of all the accessories that could help us bear up against the cold. Socks seemed like a really good idea. 

The pattern I chose results in thick booties, more like slippers than socks. To do it you make the sock way too big, then "full" (shrink) it in hot water in the washing machine.

To my way of thinking, knitting a sock would be a lot like knitting a scarf. Just like a scarf, a sock is a small, simple accessory, right? Small yes, simple no. 

Only after I began my adventure in sock knitting did I realize that a sock has many parts. Each part requires its own unique approach and set of skills. And somehow these disparate parts need to come together to make an integrated (and wearable) entity. 

Consider with me the anatomy of a sock. First, there's the leg, then comes the heel flap, then the heel turn, the gusset, the foot and finally the toe. (Interestingly, Europeans start at the toe and work back to the leg. Wonder how that affects the psychology of the sock?) 

For each of those elements, certain rules must be followed so that the whole thing has some remote chance of coming together. To make things just a little more interesting, you've got to use four double pointed needles in order for it to form into a tube. 

Lucky for me, perseverance is my strong suit. It came in handy as I ripped out and started over four times. Here are two of my failed attempts. 



The first time I goofed, I had gotten through the leg but messed up on the transition to the heel flap. The second time, I got through that and messed up on the heel turn. Each time, I became more proficient with the earlier steps. Two steps forward, one step back.

It reminded me of practicing the piano. When you hit a difficult passage, you tend to start at the beginning of the piece to try to make your way through the difficult part more smoothly. When it is all said and done, you are far more proficient at playing the beginning of the piece than the middle or the end, simply because you've played it so many more times!

By now you know me well enough to know this isn't about socks. It is about perseverance.

So many people believe that someone who gets things done or is willing to tackle difficult tasks has some special gift. That's not the case. It's all about sweat equity: putting in the time, getting up after falling down, starting over. 

How does one acquire perseverance? The truth is you acquire it by pushing through on just one difficult task until you reach the end. Having done it once, just once, you know that you can. Then you can apply it to any task before you. 

And expect moments of frustration and misery. Those feelings will pass. And don't expect perfection. You don't need to get it right, you just need to get it done. Getting it right will follow in time.

Finally, if you don't know where to start, you can always try knitting a sock.


Copyright Starfishdoc 2008