Monday Monsters and the Magic of the Mile

Hello, friends. I’m sitting here at the kitchen table, the sun just starting to dip low enough to hit the petunias in Joanne’s garden across the street. The house is finally quiet, or as quiet as it ever gets with Biscuit snoring softly at my feet. Mark just got home a few minutes ago, looking tired but giving me that lopsided grin that still makes my heart flutter after nine years of marriage. He’s currently helping Noah negotiate a truce between a T-Rex and a Triceratops, which gives me just enough time to check in with all of you before we start dinner.

Mondays always feel like a bit of a scramble, don’t they? After the slow pace of Sunday sauce and that long, lovely chat with Mom, today was a sharp return to the reality of the routine. It started at 5:30am with the sound of Mark’s boots on the floorboards, and from there, it was a whirlwind of packing Emma’s lunch—making sure her math worksheets were tucked safely away so she wouldn't draw any more horses on her multiplication tables—and hunting for Noah’s velociraptor pajama bottoms that he insists on wearing under his jeans.

Once the kids were off and the house settled, I felt that familiar pull to just sit and scroll through my phone. But I thought back to Friday’s realization about how we measure our worth. I realized that my worth today wasn’t going to be found in how many candles I poured or how clean the floors were, but in keeping the promise I made to myself. So, I laced up my sneakers for my 5K training. I’m up to three miles now, and let me tell you, that last half-mile through the park was a struggle. My lungs felt tight, and my legs were protesting, but I kept thinking about the Harvest 5K in October.

I ran past Joanne, who was already out in her pink bathrobe, deadheading her petunias with the kind of focus usually reserved for surgeons. She waved a gloved hand at me, and I managed a breathless wave back. There is something so grounding about the neighbors seeing you at your sweatiest and most vulnerable. It reminds me that I don’t have to be perfect to belong here. I just have to be present. That run was my small victory for the day, a way to tell my body that I still value it, even when it feels heavy or slow.

After my shower, I spent a few hours in the garage working on a new batch for Lucy’s Little Light. I’m trying out a new scent—something with cedar and a hint of vanilla—and it made the whole house smell like a cozy cabin. It’s a slow growth, this side hustle, but seeing the orders trickle in on Etsy gives me a sense of financial independence that I didn't have a year ago. It’s not just about the money, though that helps with the 5K entry fees; it’s about proving to myself that I can build something from scratch.

I took a break around noon to walk down to Sweet Magnolia. Megan was in the middle of a rush, but she slipped me a broken lemon scone behind the counter and reminded me about pickleball this coming Saturday. We laughed about my sore hamstrings, and just five minutes of talking to her made the Monday blues evaporate. It’s funny how a best friend can see right through the 'I'm fine' exterior and know exactly when you need a little extra sugar and a lot of encouragement.

Coming home, I had to tackle the bookkeeping for Miller’s Hardware. I don't work at the shop on Mondays, but Mr. Miller asked if I could look over the inventory sheets from home. The smell of sawdust still clings to my sweater from last week, a scent I’ve actually grown to love. Balancing those numbers always makes me feel capable. It’s a different kind of strength than running three miles—it’s the strength of a sharp mind and a steady hand.

As the afternoon wore on, I found myself thinking about the letter I wrote to my twenty-five-year-old self back in June. If that girl could see me now—juggling a toddler’s dinosaur obsession, a growing candle business, and training for a race—she might be intimidated, but I think she’d be proud. We spend so much time worrying about the big milestones that we forget the magic is in the mundane. It’s in the way Mark leaves the coffee pot ready for me, or the way Emma shares her horse drawings with me like they’re masterpieces.

I’m learning that staying in shape isn't just about the Harvest 5K or the way my jeans fit; it’s about having the energy to be the woman I want to be for my family and for myself. It’s about feeling desirable not because I look like a magazine cover, but because I am strong and capable and loved. Tonight, as we sit down to a simple meal of leftovers, I’m going to hold onto that feeling of quiet accomplishment. The miles are being run, the candles are being poured, and the little blue house on Sycamore Street is full of life.

I hope you all found a small victory today, even if it was just choosing to go to bed on time or finally folding that pile of laundry. You are worth the effort you put into yourselves, ladies. Never forget that. The slow burn of growth is still a fire, and you are all glowing beautifully.

Mark is calling me to help decide if the T-Rex gets to eat the plastic broccoli or not, so I have to run. I’ll check back in tomorrow after my shift at Miller's. Take a deep breath, hug your people, and remember that you are doing enough.

I love you. — Lucy