At first glance, those two things couldn’t seem more different—running and crafting. One is movement. One is stillness. But both are about rhythm. Repetition. Trusting the process. And most of all: showing up even when you think you can’t.
That’s what I see, over and over again, at The Crafty Lounge.
People walk in and often nervously say, “I’m not crafty.” “I’ll probably mess this up.” “I haven’t made anything since 3rd grade.”
But then we start the process of teaching and learning. One stitch. Then another. We slow down. We breathe. We cheer when it clicks. There’s something deeply grounding about the repetitive motion—just like settling into a long run. Your hands remember before your brain fully does.
And before long, that yarn becomes something real. A squishy plushie. A chunky-knit pillow. A velvet bag they can’t believe they made. You can see the shift: from “I can’t” to “I made this.”
I think of the woman who showed up after the passing of a family member, unsure why she even signed up. By the end of class, she had crocheted half a scarf, was laughing with two strangers, and asked for a kit to finish it at home.
Or the corporate team that booked a stress-relief workshop and ended up staying two extra hours to finish their chunky scarves—and maybe decompress more than they expected.
Or the teen who finger-knit a Snoopy-like plushie for her younger brother’s birthday and told me, “I didn’t know I could do something like this. I kind of feel like a superhero.”
It’s not just about making something. It’s about how you feel while you’re doing it—and how you feel when you leave.
We don’t do perfection here. Not in life, not in yarn. Some people fly through their project. Others need help every step. It’s all part of it. No two projects are alike—because no two people are. That’s why every finished piece is like a snowflake: unique, beautiful and unique.
Why I Keep Coming Back—to Running, to Knitting, to Teaching
Running taught me that repetition builds resilience. That moving forward—even when it’s slow (and I am slow!)—is still progress. That the finish line is less important than the decision to keep going.
Knitting taught me the same thing. So did teaching.
I’ve had people walk into my store on the verge of tears, or burnout, or self-doubt. And I’ve watched them leave lighter, laughing, holding something they made with their own two hands.
Sometimes, the biggest win is just showing up. The yarn will take it from there.
Thinking of Trying It?
Here’s my advice: don’t overthink it.
You don’t need experience. You don’t need supplies. You don’t even need confidence.
You just need to walk through the door of The Crafty Lounge and we’ll be there—with projects, snacks, patients, and zero judgment.
We’ll take it one stitch at a time.
Additional Classes by The Crafty Lounge
Mini Camp Crafting Workshop for Kids