Saturday Serves and the Forty-Two Mile Feat

Hello, friends. I’m writing to you from my favorite spot on the sofa, the one where the afternoon sun hits the cushions just right before it dips behind the oak trees. It’s a quiet Saturday afternoon in our little blue house on Sycamore Street. Mark is out back with Noah, helping him 'excavate' a new dinosaur dig site in the sandbox, and I can hear their muffled laughter through the window. It’s these small, golden moments that make the weekend feel like a true sanctuary.

This morning started early with my usual Saturday date with Megan. There’s something so therapeutic about the sound of a pickleball hitting a paddle—it’s rhythmic, energetic, and a little bit competitive in the best way possible. Megan was in high spirits, talking about a new lavender-honey glaze she’s testing at Sweet Magnolia, but she really pushed me on the court today. We played three sets, and I could feel the strength in my legs that wasn't there just a few months ago.

After our match, we sat on the bench for a moment, and I told her about how far I’ve come with my running. It’s funny how we sometimes need to say things out loud to believe them. I realized today that I’m not just 'trying' to be a runner anymore; I am one. That shift in self-worth, from feeling like an impostor to feeling like an athlete, is a victory that doesn't show up on a stopwatch, but it feels just as significant as any medal.

When I got home, I laced up my sneakers for my scheduled training run. The Cedar Falls Harvest 5K is right around the corner in October, and the crispness in the air today was a perfect preview of race day. I headed toward the trail, feeling the steady beat of my heart and the familiar pull of my muscles. I wasn't sure if I had a big milestone in me after the pickleball sets, but the air was so fresh I just kept going.

I am so proud to share that I hit the forty-two mile mark today in my total training journey. Forty-two miles! If you had told me back in June that I’d be logging this kind of distance, I would have laughed and headed straight for the couch. It’s a reminder that personal growth doesn't happen in a single giant leap, but in these tiny, consistent steps we take every single day.

Biscuits met me at the door when I returned, his tail thumping against the floorboards like a drum. He always knows when I’ve had a good run. I took a quick shower and then spent an hour at the kitchen table working on a new batch of 'Lucy’s Little Light' candles. I’m experimenting with a 'Harvest Hearth' scent for the Etsy shop—notes of cedarwood and dried orange. It smells like home, and it makes me feel so empowered to see those little jars lined up, ready to be sent out into the world.

Financially, the candle business is still a slow climb, but every sale feels like a vote of confidence. It’s not just about the extra grocery money; it’s about the realization that I have something valuable to offer. Between my bookkeeping hours for Mr. Miller—who gave me a lovely shout-out for balancing the books so quickly this week—and these hand-poured wicks, I’m learning that I am capable of building something of my own.

Mark came in earlier to grab a glass of water, his shirt dusty from the sandbox, and he stopped just to squeeze my shoulder and tell me the house smelled amazing. In the hustle of his long days as a foreman and my juggling act with the kids, those tiny touches keep us grounded. It makes me feel desirable and seen, even when I’m covered in candle wax or sweat from a run. Nine years of marriage has taught us that it’s the quiet support that carries you through the loudest days.

Emma spent the afternoon at the table with me, though she wasn't pouring wax. She was busy illustrating a 'horse sanctuary' on the back of one of my old practice spreadsheets. She has such a vivid imagination, and seeing her focus reminds me why I want to stay healthy and strong. I want her to grow up seeing a mother who takes care of her body and chases her own small dreams, no matter how busy life gets.

Tonight, we’re keeping it simple. Joanne from next door popped over earlier—bless her, she was still in that iconic pink bathrobe even at noon—to drop off some petunias she’d thinned out. I think I’ll spend a few minutes planting them before dinner while Mark fires up the grill. It’s a simple life, but it’s a full one, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

As I look at my robin-egg-blue journal, I’m struck by how much can change when you just decide to show up for yourself. Whether it’s hitting the pavement for another mile or finally balancing a difficult ledger at the hardware store, these victories belong to us. We are stronger than we think, ladies, and we are worth every bit of the effort we put into ourselves.

It’s nearly six o'clock now, and the house is starting to smell like grilled chicken and cedarwood. I’m going to put the laptop away and go be present with my favorite people. Thank you for walking this path with me, for listening to my ramblings about miles and wicks, and for being part of this journey toward a better version of me.

I hope you find a small victory to celebrate tonight, even if it’s just five minutes of peace. You deserve it. I love you. — Lucy