Monday Milestones and the Magic of a Mile Marker

Hello, friends. I hope your Monday treated you with a bit of grace today. The house is finally quiet, or as quiet as it gets when Mark is just pulling into the driveway and Biscuit is frantically wagging his tail against the drywall. There is a specific rhythm to a Monday in Cedar Falls, isn’t there? It’s that feeling of resetting the clock, shaking off the soft haze of Sunday, and stepping back into the harness. I woke up at 5:15 this morning, just a few minutes before Mark’s alarm went off, and I lay there in the dark listening to the birds start their morning gossip in the Sycamore trees outside.

Mark was out the door by 5:30 as usual, heading to the job site. He gave me that sleepy, rough-handed squeeze on the shoulder that always makes me feel grounded. It’s funny how a nine-year marriage translates love into those tiny, wordless gestures. Lately, I’ve been focusing so much on feeling strong in my own skin, not just for him, but for me. When I finally climbed out of bed to lace up my running shoes, I felt a sense of purpose that I didn’t have six months ago. The Harvest 5K is looming in October, and today was a milestone day.

I hit three miles today, ladies. I didn’t stop once. I ran past Joanne’s house—she was already out in her pink bathrobe, looking suspiciously at a stray weed near her petunias—and I just kept my pace. My lungs felt clear, and my legs felt powerful. There is something so healing about realizing your body is capable of more than just carrying groceries or hauling a four-year-old out of the bathtub. It’s about self-worth, isn’t it? Recognizing that these muscles belong to me, and they are getting stronger every single morning.

After my run, the Monday morning chaos erupted. Noah couldn't find his favorite velociraptor pajamas—the ones he insists on wearing under his clothes like a superhero suit—and Emma was busy ‘editing’ her math worksheets with drawings of horses in the margins. I had to gently remind her that her teacher might prefer subtraction over stallions, but I couldn't help but smile. She has such a vibrant spirit. Watching them grow makes me realize how much I want to grow alongside them, not just stay stagnant in the roles of 'mom' or 'wife.'

I spent a good chunk of the afternoon in the kitchen, but not for dinner. I had three Etsy orders come in over the weekend for 'Lucy’s Little Light,' so the stove was covered in double boilers and the scent of vanilla and sandalwood. It’s a slow growth, this little side hustle of mine, but seeing that notification on my phone makes me feel like I’m building something brick by brick. Every candle poured is a little bit of financial independence, a little victory for our family’s future, and a way to channel my own creativity into something tangible.

I did have to run a quick errand to Sweet Magnolia to drop off a sample for Megan. The bakery smelled like cinnamon and yeast, a dangerous combination for someone trying to stay in shape for a race! Megan looked exhausted but happy; she’s been prepping for a big catering event, but we still managed to squeeze in five minutes of gossip about our upcoming pickleball match this Saturday. Having a friend who cheers for your wins as loudly as she cheers for her own is a gift I never take for granted.

I’m sitting here now with my robin-egg-blue journal open on the table. Megan gave this to me for a reason, I think—to make sure I don't let these days just slip through my fingers without acknowledging the work I'm putting in. It’s easy to feel like 'just' a bookkeeper or 'just' a housewife, but today I feel like an athlete, an entrepreneur, and a woman who is very much loved. I looked in the mirror after my shower today and didn't immediately look for flaws. I looked at the color in my cheeks and the strength in my shoulders, and I felt desirable and whole.

The clock is just hitting six, and I can hear Mark at the door. He’ll be tired, smelling like dust and cedar, and ready for the roast I’ve got simmering. It’s a simple life, friends, but it’s ours. I’m learning that the big breakthroughs don’t usually happen in a flash of lightning; they happen in the three-mile runs, the hand-poured wax, and the quiet moments before the house wakes up. We are all works in progress, and that is a beautiful thing to be.

I’m going to close this up now and go help Noah find his toy triceratops before dinner starts. I hope you found a moment today to be proud of yourself, even if it was just for getting the laundry folded or taking a deep breath when things got loud. You are doing so much better than you think you are. I’ll be back here tomorrow to check in again. Until then, keep moving forward, even if it's just one small step at a time.

I love you. — Lucy