Sunday Sustenance and the Forty-Three Mile Finish

Hello, friends. The sun is just starting to dip behind the maples on Sycamore Street, casting that long, honey-colored light across my kitchen table. Mark is out back throwing the ball for Biscuit, and I can hear Noah’s little voice shouting about a 'T-Rex attack' from the porch. It is that quiet, sacred hour before the Sunday evening rush begins, and I wanted to take a moment to sit here with my robin-egg-blue journal and all of you.

Today felt like a deep breath. After the excitement of pickleball with Megan yesterday, my muscles were feeling the good kind of sore—that dull ache that reminds you that you are alive and capable. I spent the morning in my pajamas, sipping coffee while Emma showed me her latest 'masterpiece.' She’s moved on from drawing horses on the back of her math homework to sketching them on the inside covers of my old notebooks. I don’t have the heart to tell her to stop; there is something so beautiful about her confidence with a pencil.

Around noon, my phone buzzed with the weekly call from Mom. Diane always has a way of knowing exactly when I need a pep talk, even if we just talk about the weather or what Joanne was doing in her garden this morning. Joanne was out there in her pink bathrobe again, by the way, fussing over the petunias despite the October chill. Mom reminded me that nine years of marriage to Mark is something to be so proud of, and she’s right. We aren’t the same kids who said 'I do' nearly a decade ago, but I think I like who we are now even better.

After hanging up, I felt a surge of energy. I laced up my sneakers for my daily run. The Cedar Falls Harvest 5K is looming closer, and every time I hit the pavement, I feel like I’m reclaiming a piece of myself. Today, I hit the forty-three mile mark for my total training distance this month. Forty-three miles. If you had told me a year ago that I’d be tracking mileage like this, I would have laughed while reaching for another cookie.

There is something transformative about pushing your body when you’ve spent years putting everyone else’s needs first. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a mother and a wife, but those miles on the trail are just for Lucy. As I ran past the bakery and turned toward the park, I felt strong. Not just 'mom-strong' from lifting a forty-pound preschooler, but an internal, burning strength. I felt desirable, not because of how I looked in the mirror, but because of what my legs could do.

I made it back home just as the shadows were lengthening. Mark was coming through the door from a long week at the site, looking tired but giving me that lopsided grin that still makes my heart flutter. He noticed the sweat and the glow, and he just whispered, 'You’re doing it, Luce.' That simple validation means more than any trophy at the finish line in October. It makes all the early mornings and the long shifts at Miller’s Hardware feel like part of a bigger, more beautiful picture.

Speaking of Miller’s, I’m actually looking forward to Tuesday. Mr. Miller mentioned he might need help reorganizing the ledger for the new winter inventory. It’s a small raise, but every extra bit of income goes straight into the 'Lucy's Little Light' expansion fund. I spent an hour this afternoon pouring a fresh batch of 'Autumn Ember' candles for the Etsy shop. The kitchen still smells like cinnamon and charred cedar, which is much better than the usual scent of Noah’s muddy socks.

It is easy to get lost in the laundry and the bookkeeping and the never-ending request for snacks, isn't it? But tonight, looking at my messy table and my tired dog, I feel like I’m finally finding the rhythm. I’m learning that self-worth isn’t a destination you reach; it’s the way you treat yourself during the journey. It’s choosing the run even when you’re tired, and choosing to believe you’re worth the effort.

I’m going to go help Mark with dinner now—probably something simple like grilled cheese and tomato soup to warm us up. I want to savor these last few minutes of the weekend before the Monday morning alarm goes off at 5:30am for Mark. We are growing, ladies. Slowly, surely, and with a lot of heart.

I hope your Sunday was full of the kind of peace that stays with you all through the coming week. Keep pushing for your own milestones, no matter how small they might seem to anyone else. You are worth every mile and every light you choose to shine.

I love you. — Lucy