Monday Measurements and the Sixteen Mile Stretch

Hello, friends. I hope your week is starting with a deep breath and a little bit of grace for yourself. Monday morning always feels like a fresh sheet of robin-egg-blue paper, doesn't it? It’s full of potential, even when the laundry pile looks like it might actually topple over and reclaim the hallway. The house was quiet for just a moment after Mark kissed me goodbye at 5:30 this morning. I watched the tail lights of his truck fade as he headed out for another long day at the construction site, and I felt that familiar rush of gratitude for the life we’ve spent nine years building here in Cedar Falls.

After the morning rush of getting Emma her horse-themed lunchbox and making sure Noah had his favorite velociraptor pajamas swapped for actual school clothes, I found myself standing in the kitchen staring at my running shoes. If you’ve been following along lately, you know the Harvest 5K in October has become more than just a race for me. It’s become a way to prove to that voice in my head—the one that sometimes whispers I’m just a mom or just a bookkeeper—that I am also an athlete. I am someone who can push through the burn.

Today, the trail was calling for something big. Yesterday I hit fifteen miles, a distance that honestly felt impossible a month ago. But this morning, the air was crisp, and my legs felt strangely light despite the miles behind them. I hit the sixteen-mile mark just as I passed the old oak tree near the river. Sixteen miles! My lungs felt strong, my heart felt steady, and for the first time in a long time, I felt truly desirable in my own skin—not because of how I look in the mirror, but because of what my body is capable of doing.

I wasn't back for long before the 'Lucy’s Little Light' orders started pinging on my phone. I spent a few hours in the kitchen today pouring a new batch of 'Cedar Morning' candles. There’s something so grounding about the scent of soy wax and essential oils. It reminds me of the sawdust smell at Miller’s Hardware, but softer, like the way the shop smells right after Mr. Miller opens the doors in the morning. I’m starting to see a little bit of financial growth from these Etsy orders, and it feels wonderful to contribute to our family goals with something I’ve made with my own two hands.

Joanne caught me as I was taking Biscuit out for his afternoon walk. She was in that signature pink bathrobe, looking slightly distressed over her petunias. She taught for thirty years, and sometimes I think she views the flowers as her students—some are overachievers, and others just need a little extra encouragement. We chatted for a bit about the weather and the upcoming race. She told me she used to see me running and worry I was running away from something, but now she sees me and knows I’m running toward something. That stayed with me all afternoon.

Marriage is such a funny, beautiful dance of staying in sync while also growing as individuals. When Mark came through the door at 5:20 this evening, dusty and tired from the site, he didn't even drop his bag before he asked, 'How many today, Luce?' When I told him sixteen, he beamed. That look in his eyes—that mixture of pride and genuine attraction—reminds me that he sees the woman I’m becoming, not just the woman I was when we said 'I do' nearly a decade ago. It makes the sore muscles worth it.

I’ve spent some time tonight jotting down our budget in my robin-egg-blue journal. Megan gave this to me for a reason; she knew I needed a place to hold my dreams and my spreadsheets in the same space. Seeing the candle sales climb alongside my mileage feels like a double victory. It’s not about the money, really—it’s about the self-worth that comes from knowing I can set a goal, whether it’s financial or physical, and actually reach it. I’m learning that my value isn't just in what I do for others, but in the promises I keep to myself.

Emma came up to me while I was writing and showed me her math worksheet. Of course, the margins were filled with tiny, intricate drawings of horses. I used to worry about her focus, but today I just hugged her. We are all just trying to color a little bit of beauty into the lines we’re given, aren't we? Noah is currently curled up on the rug with Biscuit, snoring softly, and the house smells like the lavender-vanilla candle I lit to wind down the day. It’s a quiet, simple victory of a Monday.

Tomorrow I’ll be back at Miller’s Hardware, counting nails and balancing the books for Mr. Miller. I enjoy the routine of it, the way the sawdust settles on everything, and the way it makes me appreciate the clean, fresh air of the trails even more. Life is all about those contrasts—the hard work and the rest, the sawdust and the candlelight, the sixteen-mile run and the slow walk with a golden retriever. We are growing, ladies. Step by step, mile by mile, we are becoming the women we were meant to be.

I need to close this up and get started on dinner before the evening gets away from us. Mark is already helping Noah with his dinosaur puzzle, and I want to soak in these last few minutes of the day before the sun goes down. Thank you for being here with me, for listening to my ramblings about miles and wicks and motherhood. You make this journey feel a little less lonely and a lot more like a celebration. Keep pushing for your own sixteen-mile milestones, whatever they may look like.

I love you. — Lucy