Friday Flour and the Five-Mile Feeling

Hello, friends. The house is finally quiet for a moment, and I’m sitting here at the kitchen table with my robin-egg-blue journal and a lukewarm cup of tea. Mark just got home from the site—sawdust still clinging to his boots—and he’s currently in the backyard playing a very intense game of 'dinosaur tag' with Noah. I can hear Noah’s little velociraptor screeches through the screen door, and it makes my heart feel so full it might just burst.

Today was one of those lovely, steady Fridays that makes all the chaos of the week feel worth it. Since it isn't a bookkeeping day at Miller's, I spent my morning over at Sweet Magnolia helping Megan prep for the weekend rush. There is something so grounding about the smell of cinnamon and yeast, a sharp contrast to the cedar and metal scent of the hardware store where I spent my Thursday. We chatted about her new sourdough starter and my progress toward the Cedar Falls Harvest 5K while I braided dough for the Saturday morning crowd.

After I left the bakery, I felt a surge of restless energy. Maybe it was the extra espresso Megan slipped me, or maybe it was just the crisp September air, but I decided today was the day to push my distance. I laced up my sneakers, waved to Joanne—who was, as usual, in her pink bathrobe deadheading her petunias—and set off down Sycamore Street. I had intended to do three miles, but by the time I hit the park, my legs felt strong and my lungs felt clear.

I ended up hitting five miles today, ladies. Five! When I started this journey, I could barely make it around the block without my shins screaming at me. Seeing that number on my watch felt like a victory for 'Lucy the person,' not just 'Lucy the mom' or 'Lucy the bookkeeper.' It’s a reminder that my body is still mine, and it is capable of so much more than I often give it credit for. I came home sweaty, red-faced, and completely exhausted in the best way possible.

I took a quick shower before the kids got home from school and daycare, and as I was drying off, I caught my reflection in the mirror. For a long time, I think I looked at myself and only saw the parts that had changed after two pregnancies—the softer edges, the tired eyes. But today, I saw the muscle in my calves and the glow in my cheeks. I felt desirable. Not just for Mark, though his whistles certainly help, but for myself. There is a deep self-worth that comes from keeping the promises you make to your own heart.

Speaking of Mark, he surprised me by coming home ten minutes early. He walked through the door just as I was labeling a fresh batch of 'Autumn Orchard' candles for an Etsy order. He didn't say much—he’s never been a man of many words after a ten-hour shift—but he walked right over, put his dusty hands on my waist, and kissed the top of my head. It’s been nine years, and he still makes me feel like the girl he met in college. That quiet consistency is the bedrock of our life.

We’ve been talking more about our finances lately, especially as my 'Lucy’s Little Light' shop starts to pick up steam. It’s small growth, just a few extra dollars here and there, but seeing that PayPal balance grow feels like building a house brick by brick. We’re tucking it away for a proper anniversary trip next year. It’s not just about the money; it’s about the agency. It’s about knowing that I am contributing to our future in a way that is uniquely mine.

Emma came home from school with her math worksheet today. Naturally, the margins were covered in sketches of horses instead of long division. I should probably be more firm about her focusing on the numbers, but I can’t help but admire her spirit. She sees the world in pictures, much like I see it in scents and stories. I sat with her for an hour, gently nudging her back to her carries and subtractions, while Biscuit laid his heavy head on her feet.

Tomorrow is pickleball with Megan, and I’m looking forward to the laughter as much as the exercise. But tonight, it’s just us. Mark is firing up the grill, and I’m going to toss a salad and maybe sneak a dinosaur nugget or two from Noah’s plate. Life in Cedar Falls is quiet, and sometimes the days feel like they bleed into one another, but when I look at the tally of miles and the rows of candles, I see a life that is being intentionally crafted.

I hope you all find a moment to recognize your own strength today. Whether it’s running five miles or just making it through a difficult conversation, you are doing better than you think you are. Be kind to yourselves, and don't forget to look in the mirror and see the beauty that everyone else sees so easily.

The sun is starting to dip low over the neighbors' rooflines, and the shadows are stretching long across the lawn. It’s nearly six, and I need to go help Mark with the table. I can hear the distant chime of the church bells, signaling the end of another beautiful, ordinary day. I am tired, but I am happy, and I am so very grateful to have you all to share this with.

I love you. — Lucy