Wednesday Wicks and the Weight of Four Miles

Hello, friends. I’m sitting here at my kitchen table, the late afternoon sun stretching across the linoleum, and the house is finally quiet for just a moment. Noah is curled up on the rug with his favorite velociraptor figures, making soft growling noises that I’m trying very hard not to interrupt because, let’s be honest, those moments of independent play are gold for us mamas. Emma is at the neighbor’s house for another twenty minutes, and Biscuit is sound asleep at my feet, his paws twitching like he’s chasing a squirrel in his dreams.

Today was one of those days where the 'side hustle' felt a little more like a real business. I spent most of my morning in the kitchen with my double boiler, pouring a new batch of 'Cedar Sunset' candles for an Etsy order that came in last night. There is something so incredibly grounding about the smell of hot wax and essential oils. It’s a far cry from the scent of sawdust and motor oil at Miller’s Hardware where I was yesterday, though I love that shop too. It’s just nice to have something that is entirely mine, born from my own hands right here on Sycamore Street.

I had a bit of a breakthrough during my training session this afternoon. Since yesterday was a busy shift at the store followed by a quick three miles, I decided to push myself to four today. The Cedar Falls Harvest 5K is creeping closer on the calendar, and for the first time, I didn’t just feel like I was 'getting through' the distance. I felt strong. I felt like the woman I’m becoming, not just the woman I used to be. My legs felt powerful, and my lungs didn't burn quite as much as they did last week.

It’s funny how exercise changes your perspective on self-worth. For a long time, I thought of running as a punishment for what I ate or a chore to check off a list. But lately, especially during these four miles today, it felt like a celebration of what my body can actually do. At thirty-four, after two kids and nine years of marriage to Mark, I’m realizing that my value isn’t tucked away in an old photo album from my twenties. It’s right here, in every stride I take past Joanne’s house while she waves from her porch in that familiar pink bathrobe.

Speaking of Joanne, she caught me on my way back in. She was out there deadheading her petunias as usual, and she stopped me to say that she’s noticed my posture changing. She told me I look like I’m 'carrying myself with purpose.' It’s such a small thing, a neighborly comment, but it stuck with me all afternoon. Sometimes we need a retired schoolteacher to remind us that our growth is visible to the outside world, even when we feel like we’re just treading water.

Financially, things are looking up this month too. Between the extra hours Mr. Miller gave me and the uptick in candle sales, I was able to tuck a little extra into our 'anniversary fund.' Mark and I are coming up on nine years, and I’d love to surprise him with something special, or maybe just a night away where he doesn't have to think about construction schedules and I don't have to think about bookkeeping. He’s been working such long days lately—leaving at 5:30am and not walking through that door until 5:20pm—and I want him to know I see how hard he works for us.

I had a quick chat with Megan today when I dropped off a fresh batch of candles for the display at Sweet Magnolia. She was busy behind the counter, covered in flour as usual, but she gave me a quick squeeze and reminded me about pickleball this Saturday. I’m looking forward to it. There’s something about hitting a plastic ball across a net and laughing until your sides ache that does more for my mental health than any expensive therapy ever could.

Mark should be home in about twenty minutes. I can already hear the rumble of his truck in my mind. I’ve got a roast in the slow cooker, and the house smells like rosemary and home. It’s not a glamorous life, ladies, but it is a good one. It’s a life built on small victories: a four-mile run, a successful batch of candles, and a husband who still looks at me with that certain glint in his eyes even when I’m wearing my sweaty running gear and my hair is a mess.

I want you to remember tonight that you are worth the effort you put into yourself. Whether it’s five minutes of journaling in a robin-egg-blue book or five miles on the pavement, that time belongs to you. You are building something beautiful, even on the days when it feels like you're just pouring wax and washing dishes. Your growth is happening, even in the quiet moments.

I need to go set the table before the chaos of dinner begins and Emma comes bursting through the door with stories about horses or whatever she’s drawn on her homework today. I’m feeling grateful, I’m feeling tired in the best way possible, and I’m feeling very much like myself.

I love you. — Lucy