Monday Milestones and the Magic of the Main Street Mile

Hello, friends. I hope your Monday treated you with kindness. There is something about the first day of September that feels like a clean slate, isn't there? Even though the Iowa heat is still clinging to the siding of our little blue house, the light is changing. It is shifting into that golden, honey-colored hue that tells me the Cedar Falls Harvest 5K is no longer a distant dream on a calendar, but a real, breathing goal just weeks away.

I was out the door by 6:15 this morning, right after Mark kissed my forehead and headed out to the construction site. The air was actually crisp for a few minutes, a quiet gift before the humidity woke up. I hit the three-mile mark today, ladies. Three miles! When I started this journey, I could barely make it past Joanne’s house without my lungs burning, but today I felt strong. My legs felt like they belonged to me again, not just tools for chasing Noah around the yard, but powerful parts of a woman who is capable of endurance.

As I looped back onto Sycamore Street, I saw Joanne in her signature pink bathrobe, already out there deadheading her petunias. She gave me a little wave with her garden shears, and it made me smile. It’s those small, rhythmic neighborhood sightings that make me feel grounded. I came home to a house that was finally stirring, with Biscuit wagging his tail so hard he nearly knocked over a stack of shipping boxes in the hallway.

Speaking of boxes, 'Lucy’s Little Light' has been keeping me on my toes. I spent a good portion of the late morning in the kitchen, pouring a new batch of 'Autumn Orchard' candles. The scent of spiced apple and cedarwood is currently competing with the lingering smell of Noah’s breakfast toast. I had three new orders come in over the weekend from my Etsy shop, and while it isn't enough to retire on, seeing that little notification pop up makes me feel like I am building something that is truly mine.

It’s a strange, beautiful thing to watch your own worth grow alongside your bank balance, even if the growth is slow. For a long time, I think I viewed my contributions only through the lens of what I did for others—how well I kept the books for Mr. Miller at the hardware store or how clean I kept the kids' clothes. But these candles? They are a piece of my creativity. They are proof that I have something to say, or at least, a light to share.

Emma spent the afternoon at the kitchen table, supposedly working on her math, but I caught her sketching a palomino horse on the back of her subtraction worksheet. She has her father’s focus but my heart for the arts, I think. Noah was right beside her, zooming a plastic T-Rex over her crayons, still wearing his favorite velociraptor pajamas even though it was nearly noon. I’ve learned to pick my battles; if he’s happy and playing, the pajamas can stay.

I took a moment to call Megan at the bakery just to check in. She’s already gearing up for the pumpkin spice rush, and we joked about how our Saturday pickleball sessions are the only thing keeping us sane. It is so important to have those anchors, isn't it? A friend who knows your coffee order and your deepest insecurities and loves you through both. She reminded me that I need to book my appointment with Dani soon—my hair is starting to look a bit wild, and I want to feel like myself for my ninth anniversary with Mark next week.

Mark will be home in about twenty minutes. I can already hear the rumble of his truck in my mind. Tonight, I’m making a simple pasta, nothing fancy, but I took the time to set the table properly. Sometimes, in the middle of the chaos of parenting and part-time bookkeeping, it’s easy to forget to be partners. I want him to look at me and see the woman he married, not just the woman who manages the household schedule. I want to feel that spark, that shared glance that says we are in this together.

Training for this 5K has done wonders for my confidence in that department. There is a specific kind of glow that comes from pushing your body to its limits. It isn't just about the weight on the scale; it's about the way I carry myself when I walk into a room. I feel more present, more desirable, and more alive. I hope you are finding ways to feel that way too, friends. You deserve to take up space and to feel proud of the skin you are in.

I’m going to go help Emma find her actual math book now and get the water boiling before the back door swings open. Tomorrow is a Tuesday, which means I'll be back at Miller’s Hardware, surrounded by the scent of sawdust and the clicking of my calculator. But for tonight, I am just Lucy—runner, candle-maker, wife, and mom. And that is more than enough.

Take a deep breath and remember how far you’ve come since last Monday. I am cheering for you in all your small victories. I love you. — Lucy