Saturday Steps and the Fifty-Six Mile Stretch

Good afternoon, friends. I’m sitting here at the kitchen table in our little blue house, the clock just ticking past five, and the house is finally quiet for a moment. Mark just took the kids and Biscuit out for a quick walk to burn off some energy before the sun fully dips below the horizon, and I have this little pocket of peace to myself. The smell of 'Autumn Harvest' candles is still hanging heavy in the air—I spent a good chunk of the afternoon pouring a new batch for my Etsy shop, and there’s something so grounding about the rhythm of melting and stirring.

Today started with a little more movement than usual. Saturday mornings are for pickleball with Megan, and despite the frost clinging to the grass, we were out there playing our hearts out. Megan was telling me all about the holiday rush starting at Sweet Magnolia; she’s already getting pre-orders for Thanksgiving pies, and it made me realize how fast this year is disappearing. We played three games, and I could feel the strength in my legs that wasn't there back in the summer. It’s funny how you don't notice the change while it’s happening, but then one day you realize your lungs aren't burning as much as they used to.

After pickleball, I came home and laced up my running shoes. I hit the pavement for my daily training, and ladies, I hit a new milestone today: fifty-six miles for the month of November so far. The Cedar Falls Harvest 5K is getting so close now, and every time my sneakers hit the pavement, I feel a little more like the athlete I never thought I could be. As I ran past Joanne’s house, I saw her through the window in her signature pink bathrobe, likely tending to her indoor plants now that the petunias have finally surrendered to the cold. I gave a little wave, and she tapped on the glass, cheering me on in her own quiet way.

When I got back, the house was a whirlwind. Noah was running through the hallway in his velociraptor pajamas—I swear he would wear those to school if I let him—while Emma was sprawled out on the living room floor. She had her math worksheets out, but true to form, the margins were completely filled with sketches of horses. She’s got such a creative spirit, and even though I have to remind her to actually solve the addition problems, I can’t bring myself to be too firm about the drawings. I want her to keep that spark, that belief that she can create beauty anywhere.

Mark came home around the usual time, looking a bit worn out from a long week at the construction sites, but he still took the time to notice the new batch of candles cooling on the counter. He pulled me into a hug, sawdust still clinging to his jacket—a smell I’ve come to associate so deeply with him and Mr. Miller’s shop—and told me the house smelled like 'home.' It’s a small thing, really, but after nine years of marriage, those little acknowledgments are what keep the fire burning. It makes me feel seen and desired, not just as a mother or a bookkeeper, but as a woman who is building something of her own.

Speaking of building, I took a look at my 'Lucy’s Little Light' ledger this afternoon. The financial growth is slow, but it’s steady. Every time I see a new order notification from Etsy, I feel this little surge of self-worth. It’s not about the money, though that certainly helps with the kids' activities; it’s about the fact that something I made with my own two hands is being welcomed into someone else’s home. It’s a quiet victory, a small piece of independence that I cherish.

I also had a quick chat with my mom, Diane, today. She called to check in on the kids and remind me that she’s coming over next Sunday. We talked about the 5K, and she sounded so proud of my progress. It’s funny how I still crave that validation from her at thirty-four, but I think we all do, don’t we? She’s been such a pillar for me, and hearing her voice always centers me when the chaos of the week starts to feel overwhelming.

As I look at my robin-egg-blue journal sitting next to my laptop, I’m reminded of how far I’ve come since June. Back then, I was just starting to reclaim my time, learning that going to bed early wasn't a chore but a gift to myself. Now, those habits are the foundation I stand on. I feel stronger, more capable, and more in tune with what I need. The 5K training isn't just about physical fitness; it’s about proving to myself that I can set a goal and see it through, mile by grueling mile.

Tonight, we’re keeping it simple. Mark is picking up some takeout so I don't have to cook after a long day of pouring candles and running, and then we’ll probably settle in for a movie with the kids. I’m looking forward to just being still for a while. There’s a certain beauty in the ordinary, in the way the light fades over Sycamore Street and the way the heater hums in the background. It’s a good life, a full life, and I am so grateful to share these pieces of it with you.

Before I go, I want to remind you to celebrate your own milestones today, no matter how small they might seem. Whether it’s a mile run, a clean kitchen, or just remembering to breathe, those victories belong to you. You are doing so much better than you think you are, and you deserve to feel that pride in your chest. Don't let the big goals overshadow the small steps that get you there.

The family is just pulling back into the driveway, and Biscuit is already barking at a squirrel in the oak tree. It’s time for me to close the laptop and be present with them. I hope your Saturday has been kind to you, and that you find a moment to reflect on your own growth this week. We are all works in progress, and that is a beautiful thing to be.

I love you. — Lucy