Friday Fever and the Forty-One Mile Finish

Hello, friends. I’m sitting here at the kitchen table in the little blue house, the late afternoon sun slanting through the window and hitting the robin-egg-blue cover of my journal. It’s nearly 5:30, which means any minute now I’ll hear the rumble of Mark’s truck in the driveway. He’s been working such long hours lately, leaving before the sun even thinks about coming up, and I can’t wait to have him home for a quiet Friday night. The house smells faintly of the 'Vanilla Bean and Cedar' candles I poured this morning, mixed with the lingering scent of the lavender laundry detergent I used for the kids’ bedding.

Today felt like one of those days where the small victories really started to stack up, even if the morning began a bit chaotically. Noah decided his velociraptor pajamas were the only acceptable attire for breakfast, and Emma spent thirty minutes meticulously drawing a tiny horse in the corner of her math homework. I had to gently remind her that while her artistic talent is growing, Mrs. Gable might prefer to see how she carries the one. Watching her, though, I realized how much of her I see in myself—that desire to make something beautiful even when you're supposed to be focused on the numbers.

Since I don’t work at Miller’s Hardware on Fridays, I dedicated my morning to 'Lucy’s Little Light.' I finally hit a new milestone with my Etsy shop today: five orders in a single morning! It’s not a fortune, but seeing that little notification pop up feels like such a validation of this side hustle. It’s about more than just the extra grocery money; it’s about the fact that something I created with my own two hands is heading out to homes across the country. It makes me feel capable and grounded, a reminder that I’m more than just a bookkeeper or a mom—I’m a maker, too.

After the candles were set to cool, I laced up my sneakers and headed out toward the trail. The air in Cedar Falls is getting crisp now, that real October chill that makes your lungs feel sharp and awake. I’ve been pushing myself harder this week as the Harvest 5K gets closer. Yesterday I hit forty miles total in my training log, and today I pushed through the fatigue to add one more. Forty-one miles. Just saying that number out-loud makes my chest swell a little bit. I remember a year ago when walking to Joanne’s house to chat about her petunias felt like my peak activity for the day.

Joanne was out there today, by the way. Even though it’s cooling off, she was in her signature pink bathrobe, fussing over the last of her garden beds. She waved her trowel at me as I jogged past, shouting something about how I was 'moving like the wind.' It made me laugh, but it also made me stand a little taller. That’s the thing about this journey, isn't it? We don’t always see the changes in ourselves until someone else points them out. I feel stronger in my legs, sure, but I also feel a renewed sense of self-worth that has nothing to do with the scale and everything to do with the commitment I’ve kept to myself.

That feeling of strength carries over into my marriage, too. When you feel good in your own skin, it changes how you look at your partner. I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror after my run—cheeks flushed, hair a mess, wearing an old t-shirt—and for the first time in a long time, I didn't immediately look for the flaws. I felt desirable because I felt powerful. I want Mark to see that version of me tonight, the woman who is chasing her goals and catching them. We’ve been married nine years, and I’m realizing that keeping the spark alive isn't just about date nights; it's about not losing yourself in the process of being a wife.

Biscuit followed me around the kitchen while I prepped a simple pasta dinner, his tail thumping against the cabinets. He knows the routine. He knows that once the sun starts to dip, the 'work' part of the day is over. I’ve been thinking about what Mom said when she called on Sunday, about how life is just a series of small rhythms. I used to fight the routine, thinking it was boring. Now, I find so much peace in it. The rhythm of the hardware shop, the rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement, the rhythm of the kids breathing while they sleep.

Financial growth is coming slowly, but it is coming. Between the steady hours at Miller’s and the candle sales, I’ve started a small savings envelope specifically for our anniversary trip next year. It’s not much yet, but it represents a promise. It represents the fact that we are building something together, brick by brick, or rather, candle by candle. It feels good to contribute to our future in a way that feels authentic to who I am.

I’m going to close this up now. I hear the truck pulling in, and I want to be at the door to greet Mark before Noah tackles him in his raptor suit. Tonight is for family, for rest, and for celebrating that forty-first mile. Tomorrow is Saturday, which means pickleball with Megan at the park, and I’m going to need my energy if I want to keep up with her. She’s been practicing her serve, and I have a feeling she won’t be going easy on me just because I ran a 5K training route today.

Thank you for being here, ladies. For listening to the mundane and the milestones. It means the world to have this space to share my heart with you. Remember to find your own version of that 'forty-one mile' victory today, whatever it looks like for you. You are worth the effort, and you are doing better than you think you are.

I love you. — Lucy