Saturday Steps and the Forty-Nine Mile Feeling

Good afternoon, ladies. The little blue house is finally quiet for a moment, and I’m sitting here at my kitchen table with my robin-egg-blue journal and a lukewarm cup of coffee. Mark is out back with the kids and Biscuit, and if I listen closely, I can hear the distant, high-pitched roar of Noah pretending to be a T-Rex while Emma tries to convince him that horses are much faster than dinosaurs. It is one of those sweet, mundane Saturday afternoons where the air smells like the changing season and the petunias in Joanne’s garden are finally starting to bow their heads for the year.

This morning started early at the pickleball courts with Megan. We’ve been remarkably consistent with our Saturday matches lately, and I can tell it’s doing wonders for my spirit. Megan was telling me all about a new sourdough starter she’s nurturing at Sweet Magnolia, but mostly, we just laughed at how competitive we’ve become. There’s something so grounding about moving your body with a friend who has known you through every season—through the early days of my marriage to Mark, through two pregnancies, and now through this journey of finding myself again at thirty-four.

After pickleball, I stopped by the bakery to grab a few cinnamon rolls for the kids, and I ran into Dani. She noticed my hair was getting a bit wild from all the running, and we scheduled a trim for next week. It’s a small thing, but keeping those appointments makes me feel like I’m taking care of the woman inside the wife and mother roles. I’ve been thinking a lot about self-worth lately, and how it isn't just about the big achievements, but the quiet maintenance of our own happiness.

When I got home, I spent a few hours in my 'candle corner.' I had three new orders on Etsy for 'Lucy’s Little Light'—people seem to really love the cedar and vanilla scent this time of year. As I poured the wax, I felt that familiar sense of pride. It’s not just a side hustle; it’s a little piece of me that belongs to the world. The finances from the candles have been slowly growing, and I’ve been tucking that extra money away into a special 'race fund' for my travel and gear. It feels good to contribute to our home in a way that feels uniquely mine.

Then, it was time for the big event of the day: my penultimate long run before the Cedar Falls Harvest 5K. I hit the trail behind Sycamore Street just as the sun was beginning its slow descent. The air was crisp, the kind that makes your lungs feel sharp and awake. I focused on my breathing, thinking about how far I’ve come since I first laced up those sneakers months ago. I wasn't just running away from the stress of the week; I was running toward a version of myself that is stronger and more capable than I ever imagined.

I am so incredibly proud to share that I hit the forty-nine mile mark today. Total cumulative training miles, all tracked in the margins of my math-smeared notebooks and this journal. Forty-nine miles. When I started, I wasn't sure I could make it around the block without wanting to quit. Today, as I crossed that forty-ninth mile, I felt like I could run forever. My legs burned, yes, but my heart felt light. It’s a physical manifestation of my growth, a tangible proof that I am worth the effort I put into myself.

Mark was waiting on the porch when I got back, looking every bit the weary construction foreman but with that soft smile he only gives me. He’d spent the day wrangling the kids so I could have my time, and seeing him there reminded me of why we’ve made it nine years. Our marriage isn't always perfect—he’s out the door at 5:30am and often comes home exhausted—but there is a steady, quiet support there. He told me I looked 'radiant,' even though I was sweaty and red-faced. Feeling desirable in those moments, in the raw reality of hard work, is a gift I don't take for granted.

Tonight, we’re keeping it simple. Mark is firing up the grill, and I’m going to help Emma with her homework—hopefully, we can keep the horse drawings to a minimum until the subtraction is done. Noah is already lobbying for an extra story about velociraptors before bed, and Biscuit is currently curled up on my feet, sensing that I’m finally sitting still. These are the moments that build a life, aren't they? The miles, the candles, the sawdust smell of the hardware store, and the warmth of a full house.

As I look toward the race in October, I realize that the 5K is just a finish line, but the real victory has been every single mile leading up to it. It’s the discipline of showing up when I’m tired, the courage to start a business, and the love we pour into our families every day. I hope you’re finding your own 'forty-nine mile' moments this weekend, whatever they may look like. You are stronger than you know, and you are so worthy of the space you take up in this world.

The clock is nearing 6:00, and I can hear the screen door creak—that means Mark needs help with the tongs or Noah has found a 'fossil' in the backyard. It’s time to put the pen down and step back into the beautiful chaos of being Lucy. I’ll be back tomorrow after my Sunday call with Mom. Until then, take a deep breath and remember how far you’ve already come.

I love you. — Lucy