Extreme Knitting

We walked around a gray cinder-block warehouse. A group of women wearing sports bras, leggings, t-shirts, and sneakers passed by. Just like us, they toted around bags with knitting needles sticking out. Another clone held the door open for us. I muttered a thank-you, before confronting the gym’s interior. The mix of knitted tapestries and roller skates caught me off guard.

“Sherry?” I whispered to my friend.

“Yeah?”

“What exactly is extreme knitting?”

“Isn’t this so exciting?” She jumped up and down and ran over to a group of women. One by one, she hugged the whole group, and I stood behind her like a gothic yet dependent teenager.

“Sherry?” I whispered again.

“Yes, Caitlyn?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What?”

“What exactly is extreme knitting? What have you gotten me into?”

“Don’t worry. Relax. Come here.” She grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the edge of a roller derby track. “This is extreme knitting.” I gawked. Women adorned with helmets, elbow guards, fingerless gloves, knee pads, and roller skates. Fumbling through knitting, while crashing into one another. Using hips and shoulders to mess up a stitch. Then, one player used her maroon scarf to trip an opponent who then fell on her face. The crowd gasped and then hollered. Fortunately, the blood stains weren’t too obvious.

With a shaky voice, I gulped and said, “Sherry, I can’t do this.”

“I didn’t expect you too,” she replied before yelling at the players. “Come on, Betty! Get in there!”

“So what do I do? Just watch?” I looked at the bleachers behind us, filled with women. There were two settings. First, we had chit-chat while clacking needles. Then, in a split second, the world erupted, like some white, straight man told all of them to go back to the kitchen.

“No, silly,” she laughed. 

Just then, a woman slammed into the plexi-glass wall in front of us. I yelped. “Really? I’m fine with just watching. There’s a seat calling my name in the third row.”

“This isn’t the only extreme activity.” She grabbed my wrist and pulled me along. I parted from the safe bleachers, before I saw one woman throwing a knife at another who was, of course, knitting. Either the blades would stick into the wooden board behind her or fall and clatter on the floor. Both options sent shivers down my spine. “Don’t worry.”

“Worry?” I forced a laugh. “I’m not worried.” Did I look worried?

“Stacy here is a professional knife thrower. But we also have skateboarding.”

“And I have to knit during all of these activities?”

“Yup. Welcome to extreme knitting!”

While my back caved in, I looked for the nearest exit. As Sherry dragged me along, my eyelids drooped, and a rain cloud followed me. All the women around me had enough adrenaline to last them the rest of the year. All I had was Eeyore as my guardian angel. While Sherry skipped away, I plopped on a bench and took out my latest project: a red hat for my niece. What kind of woman would she grow up to be? A hermit like me or a roller-skating superhuman? She always ran faster than her brothers. She climbed trees and played soccer. What would she think of her aunt sitting on the sidelines?

“Let’s do this!”

With the speed of a tortoise, I looked up and saw Sherry holding a skateboard and helmet. “How am I supposed to do this?”

“You start by just skating. Once you’re comfortable, you pull out the needles. That’s how I did it. One step at a time.”

I put down the hat, inhaled, exhaled, and grabbed the helmet. 

“Woohoo! There you go, Caitlyn!”

My smile quickly faded, when I pinched my chin fat in the buckle. “Ow!”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Thatta girl!”

I stuffed my yarn in my pocket, with the needles poking out of my waist band. I grabbed the skateboard from Sherry and bowed. Whenever I got nervous, I did things I usually didn’t do. I never bowed, but alas, I was scared. The furthest I ever got with skateboarding was when my high school crush pushed me around on his. It only happened once, but it was such a thrill for my pubescent self. I walked into the skatepark complete with rails and half pipes and people whizzing by. When I saw one woman panting while exiting with a perfectly knit pair of socks in hand, I almost followed her out. I was an undeserving amateur.

As if she could read my mind, Sherry snatched the board from me and put it down on the ground in front of me. “Go,” she said.

“But --”

“Go!” She bent down and moved my left foot on top of the wheeled machine. “Do you want me to move the other one?”

“No, I’ve got it!”

She stood back up and watched me not go anywhere. “I thought you said you got it?”

“I do. You don’t see me moving?” I joked. My trusty defense mechanism.

“Caitlyn, you have ten seconds until I push you myself. Ten.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Nine.”

“You know I hate countdowns.”

“Eight.”

“I think you missed a number.”

“Six.”

“I was joking! No need to take me seriously.”

“Four.”

“Who taught you to count?”

“One!”

And she pushed me. As I squawked and squealed, I flailed about like an inflatable tube man. But I was moving. No faster than 7 miles per hour, but I was rocking and rolling! I was so proud of myself.

Just then, I was blown over, and everything went black.

***

Once my eyelids fluttered open, my vision was flooded with fluorescent light. My ears filled with the sounds of people bustling. When I moved my head, I noticed the aching, the vague feeling of not feeling 100%. “Where am I?”

“The ER,” a voice answered.

I followed my instinct and slowly turned my head to the left, and there was Sherry. “Friend,” I greeted her.

“Hey there, how are you feeling?”

“Not 100%.”

“You took a nasty hit and a nasty fall. The doctor says you have a minor concussion.”

“And you took me to the hospital for that?”

“You insisted.”

“I did?”

“You did.”

Before I could begin crunching the numbers of impending medical bills, my sister and niece walked in the room. “Aunt Cate!” She yelled.

“I love you, kid, but pipe down.”

“What did you do?” The tiny woman asked.

“It was her fault,” I asked.

“Mine?” Sherry questioned.

“You took me extreme knitting, and now look where I am.”

“It was an accident.”

I gasped. “Where’s the hat?” I patted all of my pockets and winced, after moving around too quickly looking for my purse.

“It’s right here,” Sherry answered, patting the bag on the chair next to her.

“What’s in there?” My niece asked. Nosy.

“Nothing,” I lied and smirked, relieved to finish knitting her gift in the comfort of my own home.