Thursday Tallies and the Triumph of Twelve

Hello, friends. I’m sitting here at the kitchen table in the blue house, watching the afternoon light stretch across the floorboards. Mark just walked through the door a few minutes early—a rare 5:15pm treat—and he’s currently in the backyard throwing a tennis ball for Biscuit while the kids scream with laughter. It’s moments like these, where the air smells like the cooling Iowa autumn and the house is full of noise, that I feel most grounded in who I am becoming.

Today was a Tuesday-Thursday rhythm day, which means I spent my morning and early afternoon at Miller’s Hardware. There’s something so strangely meditative about the scent of sawdust and the metallic clinking of bins full of washers. Mr. Miller was in a particularly chatty mood today, showing me his new inventory of winterized weather stripping, but my mind was partially on my spreadsheets and partially on the pavement waiting for me afterward.

I’ve been thinking a lot about self-worth lately, especially as I balance the bookkeeping for the shop with my own 'Lucy’s Little Light' orders. Today, I actually had to restock my 'Cedar Balsam' jars because they sold out over the weekend! It feels incredible to see those small financial wins, realizing that I am contributing to our family’s future not just by saving pennies, but by creating something people actually want to bring into their homes.

After I clocked out at 3:00, I headed straight for the trails. I won’t lie to you, ladies—my legs felt heavy when I started. I thought about the eleven miles I hit yesterday and wondered if I was pushing too hard. But as I passed the bakery and saw Megan waving through the window of Sweet Magnolia, I felt a second wind. I realized that my body isn't just a vessel for carrying laundry or chasing Noah; it is an engine that I have built with my own discipline.

I hit the twelve-mile mark today. Twelve. If you had told me back in June that I’d be doubling my distance before the Harvest 5K even arrived in October, I would have laughed you right out of the room. But there I was, my breath rhythmic and my heart steady, feeling more desirable and capable than I have in years. It’s not just about the scale or the miles; it’s about the look in my own eyes when I pass a mirror.

When I got home, Joanne was out in her pink bathrobe, despite it being nearly four in the afternoon. She was deadheading her petunias and stopped me to ask if I was 'trying to run all the way to Des Moines.' We shared a laugh, and she told me I looked 'radiant.' It’s funny how a compliment from a retired teacher can make you feel like a star student all over again. I think we all need that sometimes—to be seen by our neighbors as someone who is striving.

Emma was waiting for me at the door with a new drawing. She’d turned her math worksheet into a mural of horses galloping through a forest of velociraptors. Noah, of course, was wearing his favorite dinosaur pajamas already, insists they make him 'aerodynamic.' Seeing their little faces reminds me why I take care of myself. I want them to grow up seeing a mother who loves her life and respects her own strength.

Mark caught me in the hallway while I was cooling down and gave me that look—the one that makes me feel like the same girl he married nine years ago. He noticed the sweat and the flush in my cheeks and just whispered, 'Proud of you, Luce.' It’s simple, but it’s everything. In the rush of construction sites and bookkeeping and candle pouring, we still find these quiet bridges back to each other.

I’m finishing this up now because we’re having a simple dinner of pasta and salad before I head to the basement to pour a fresh batch of 'Autumn Embers.' I’ve learned that going to bed on time is my greatest act of self-love, so I want to get the wax melting now. Tomorrow is Friday, a day for recovery and perhaps a little extra time in my robin-egg-blue journal to process these big miles.

To all of you who feel like you're just starting your journey: keep going. The miles get easier, the sawdust smells sweeter, and the version of yourself you’re looking for is already there, just waiting for you to catch up. You are worth every ounce of effort you put into your own growth.

The sun is dipping low over Sycamore Street, and the house is starting to smell like garlic and basil. It's time to be present with my favorite people. I hope you find a moment of peace in your own evening, tucked away from the noise of the world.

I love you. — Lucy