A Stitch in Time

Last year for my birthday my grandma took all of my old running shirts while I was at school and cut them up to make a quilt out of them. I've always wanted a quilt like that, but for some reason I was kind of hurt by her actions. I felt like she had gone through my diary without asking. I have a strong emotional connection with those shirts, as I'm sure most runners do. I think I was also distraught because she didn't have time to actually make the quilt so she just handed me a Walmart bag full of my torn up memories. She didn't even make them all the same sizes. Why would she not make them the same sizes? 

I still have the bag of t-shirt scraps in my closet. My grandma and I said we would get together and finish the quilt. But I have never made the time and she probably forgets about it and the bag of scraps gets pushed further and further into the shadowy back of my closet. The back of my mind. 

Sometimes when I run I forget where I came from. I forget how horrifyingly sucky I was. I forget 9/10 meets. I forget when my PR was 7:22 for the mile. I forget that defeated feeling you get when you're behind the rest of the pack and all you want to do is quit. I forget the pity cheers from your teammates. I forget the fast girls having to circle back around to pick you up because you fell behind...again. I forget a huge physical, mental and emotional building block of my life.

Today I found that bag of scraps. I'm still not sure if I'm over my grandma cutting them up. The poor woman didn't know she was cutting up my life. But finding that bag made me realize just how far I've come. How much I owe to running. I think I'll call my grandma and ask her when we can finally make the quilt. It's time to sew my life back together.