Friday Flickers and the Thirteen Mile Threshold

Hello, friends. The sun is just starting to dip behind the old maple tree in Joanne’s yard, and I’m sitting here at the kitchen table with a cup of chamomile tea while the house is unusually quiet. Mark is just pulling into the driveway—I can hear the familiar rumble of his truck—and the kids are sprawled out on the living room rug, Emma helping Noah find the 'scary' dinosaurs in his picture books. It’s these small, golden moments that make the chaos of the week feel like a beautiful tapestry rather than just a pile of loose threads.

Today was one of those days where the 'side hustle' felt a lot more like a main passion. I spent the morning in my 'candle corner' in the basement, surrounded by the scent of 'Harvest Spice' and 'Cedar Morning.' I’m preparing a large batch of orders for the Etsy shop, and there’s something so grounding about the rhythm of pouring wax. As I watched the liquid settle into the jars, I thought about how 'Lucy’s Little Light' has grown from a tiny hobby into something that actually helps cover our groceries or the kids' soccer fees. It’s a quiet kind of financial power, isn't it? Knowing I can create something from scratch that people want to bring into their own homes.

I had a brief scare around noon when Biscuit decided he wanted to be a 'helper.' He came bounding into the kitchen with his tail wagging like a windshield wiper, nearly knocking over a tray of cooling tins. I managed to catch them just in time, but it resulted in a very apologetic golden retriever sitting on my feet for the next hour. He’s such a goofball, but he’s also my shadow. When I’m working on my bookkeeping for Mr. Miller or pouring candles, he’s always right there, reminding me to take a breath and maybe offer a stray ear-scratch.

Speaking of breathing, I hit the trails this afternoon. I’ve been pushing myself harder as the Cedar Falls Harvest 5K approaches in October, and today felt like the culmination of weeks of sweat and sore muscles. I laced up my sneakers, waved to Joanne—who was, as usual, in her pink bathrobe deadheading her petunias—and just ran. I didn't set out to break a record, but the air was so crisp and my legs felt so light that I just kept going. When I checked my watch at the end, I had clocked thirteen miles. Thirteen! Just a few months ago, I was winded after two.

Crossing that thirteen-mile threshold felt like more than just a physical achievement. It felt like a victory for my self-worth. For a long time, I think I let myself believe that 'Mom Lucy' or 'Wife Lucy' was the only version of me that mattered. I forgot that 'Athlete Lucy' or 'Independent Lucy' deserved a seat at the table too. Seeing that number on the screen made me realize that I am capable of so much more than I give myself credit for. I’m not just staying in shape for the sake of a dress size; I’m doing it to prove to myself that I can endure, that I can grow, and that I can thrive.

When I got back, I had a quick call with Megan at the bakery. She’s getting ready for the weekend rush, but she took a second to cheer for my mileage. We’re still on for pickleball tomorrow morning, and I’m looking forward to the laughter as much as the exercise. Having a best friend who celebrates your wins, no matter how small or how sweaty, is such a gift. She even mentioned that Dani at the salon said my hair is looking healthier—probably all the extra water I’ve been drinking for training!

Mark walked in about ten minutes ago, looking tired but wearing that crooked smile I still love after nine years of marriage. He saw the '13.0' written on the chalkboard I use to track my runs and just gave me a huge bear hug. He smells like the outdoors and hard work, and in that moment, I felt so incredibly desirable and seen. It’s not always about grand gestures; sometimes it’s just your husband recognizing the grit it took to wake up early and do the work.

Now, the smell of dinner is starting to fill the house—nothing fancy, just some pasta and a salad—but it feels like a feast. I’m tired in the best way possible. My muscles are humming, my candles are set, and my heart is full. We have a few more weeks until the race, and while I know there will be harder days ahead, I’m holding onto this feeling of triumph tonight.

I want you all to remember that your progress counts, even when it’s slow. Whether you’re pouring candles, balancing books at a hardware store, or just trying to get through a long day with a four-year-old in velociraptor pajamas, you are doing enough. You are enough. Take a moment to celebrate your own 'thirteen miles,' whatever form that takes in your life today.

I’m going to go help Emma with her horse drawings now before we lose the light completely. Tomorrow is a new day with new miles to cover, but for tonight, I am content. I hope you find a moment of peace this evening, too. I love you. — Lucy