Tuesday Tools and the Thirty-One Mile Threshold

Hello, friends. I’m sitting here at my kitchen table, the late afternoon sun slanting through the window and hitting the robin-egg-blue cover of my journal. There’s a pot of tea cooling next to me, and for the first time today, the house is actually quiet. Mark just pulled into the driveway a few minutes early—I can hear the heavy rumble of his truck—and the kids are currently occupied with a makeshift 'dinosaur dig' in the backyard that involves Noah’s velociraptor pajamas and a very patient Biscuit. It feels like a good time to breathe and share a bit of my heart with you all.

Today was a Tuesday, which means my world smelled like sawdust and motor oil for a few hours. I headed over to Miller’s Hardware at 11:00, and Mr. Miller was in one of his rare, chatty moods. We spent most of my shift reconciling the summer accounts, but he took a moment to ask how my Etsy shop, Lucy’s Little Light, was doing. It’s funny how those small acknowledgments of my side hustle make me feel so seen. He told me he’s noticed more people coming in asking for 'that candle lady from Sycamore Street,' and my heart just swelled. It’s not just about the extra money in our savings account—though that helps—it’s about the realization that I’m building something that belongs entirely to me.

Being a bookkeeper and a mom and a wife can sometimes feel like you’re the glue holding everyone else’s dreams together. But when I’m pouring wax or tracking my training miles, I’m reminded that I have my own finish lines to cross. Speaking of finish lines, I hit a massive milestone today. After I left the shop at 3:00, I laced up my sneakers and hit the trail. The air in Cedar Falls has that sharp, autumnal bite now, the kind that makes your lungs feel clear and powerful. I pushed through the fatigue, and by the time I looped back toward Joanne’s house, my tracker buzzed. I’ve officially hit thirty-one miles for the month.

Thirty-one miles. If you had told me six months ago that I’d be tracking that kind of distance while preparing for the Harvest 5K, I would have laughed. Back then, I felt like my body was just a vehicle for carrying groceries and toddlers. Now, I feel strong. I feel capable. When I ran past Joanne’s yard, she was out there in her signature pink bathrobe, even this late in the day, deadheading her petunias before the first real frost. She waved her shears at me and shouted, 'Look at you go, Lucy!' And you know what? I felt like I was really going somewhere.

That sense of self-worth is something I’ve been protective of lately. It’s easy to let it slip away in the laundry piles and the math worksheets Emma brings home—the ones she’s currently decorating with elaborate sketches of horses instead of long division. But tonight, as I watched Mark walk through the door, tired and covered in the dust of the construction site, I didn't feel like just the person who manages the household. I felt like his partner. There’s a different kind of spark in our marriage when I come home from a run, glowing and energized, rather than just exhausted by the routine.

Mark caught me in the hallway just now and gave me a squeeze. He noticed the new candles I had curing on the counter—I’m testing a 'Harvest Hearth' scent for the October rush—and he told me the house finally smelled like home again. It’s a small thing, a mundane moment between the fridge and the mudroom, but it makes me feel desirable and appreciated. We’ve been married nine years, and sometimes it takes a thirty-one-mile journey to remember that we’re still discovering new versions of each other.

I’ve been thinking a lot about financial growth, too. Every candle sold and every hour at Miller’s is a brick in the wall of our future. I’m hoping to surprise Mark with something special for our anniversary soon, something we wouldn't normally splurge on. It feels good to have that little bit of independence. It reminds me that even though I’m a mom and a wife first, Lucy Bennett is still a woman with her own goals and her own light to share with the world.

The Harvest 5K is getting closer every day, and the nerves are starting to mix with excitement. I’m not just running to lose weight or to stay in shape anymore; I’m running to see what I’m made of. I want Emma to see her mom crossing that line. I want Noah to see that his mom can be as fast as a raptor—or at least try to be. Most of all, I want to prove to myself that I can set a goal and see it through to the very end.

Megan is coming over later this evening with some leftover treats from Sweet Magnolia. We’re supposed to talk about our pickleball strategy for Saturday, but I suspect we’ll mostly just end up sitting on the porch talking about life and watching the sun go down. She’s been such a rock for me during this training, always reminding me that a slow mile is still a mile. I think we all need a Megan in our lives, someone who sees the progress we’re making even when we feel like we’re standing still.

It’s almost 6:00 now, and I need to go help Mark round up the 'dinosaurs' for dinner. Emma is already asking if we can look at horse videos on my phone, and Biscuit is barking at a squirrel that has no business being on our porch. The chaos is returning, but it’s a beautiful kind of chaos. I’m going to close this journal, put on my apron, and step back into the role I love most, carrying today’s thirty-one miles in my heart like a secret trophy.

Thank you for being here with me, ladies. Whether you ran a mile today or just managed to get the dishes done, remember that you are doing enough. You are enough. I’ll check back in tomorrow after my call with my mom—I’m sure Diane will have plenty to say about my training schedule, but I’m ready for it. Keep shining your own light, and don't be afraid to take up space.

I love you. — Lucy