In Friday’s post, I introduced you to Hannah Brencher. At 23, she’s figured out something that took me a decade in a career as a TV news anchor and reporter to realize. Today, I share the rest of my conversation with her.
In NYC, Hannah Brencher is known as the “love letter writer.” She understands that for her website & blog The World Needs More Love Letters to succeed, it has to look like and operate like a business. But dollar signs and the bottom line don’t drive this work. It’s fueled by the “compassion of others and my own faith that others will latch onto the cause at hand,” she says.
Hannah and her team write and mail notes to strangers all over the world. Encouraging them. Reminding them that their life is worth fighting for. Reminding them that they are loved. “I never thought to call it a movement but that is what everyone around me has called it. And to that I say, well if it is going to bring more love, more compassion, and more intentionality into the world, then let it move. Let it rock. Let it roll and plow the way that it’s meant to, and I will guide and steer it from the background.”
Brencher has a day job, working at a leading non-profit for children. “One day, it would be nice to move into a more full time role with the love letters or writing but, just as this whole thing has unfolded, I trust that this opportunity will also unfold in time.”
At 23, she already gets it. She understands she’s a person who can’t be fit into a box. “I cannot define what I want to do on a daily basis, much less my whole life.” But she knows this:
“I am successful. Without a doubt, I am successful. I would not have said that a few months ago, when I was defining success in terms of ladders and climbing them. Today, success, to me, is doing something each day that I know I will be proud of in one year from now. Success is finding a way to be a blessing to other people. If I get to the end of a day and I cannot look over the hours and say, I was good to that person or I found a way to value that person, then I better just head to sleep and try harder in the morning. I’ve found that when I wake up with that being my sole purpose, to be a blessing to other people, life is so much easier.“
The world needs more love letters. Yes. Yes it does. But it also needs more people like Hannah Brencher, don’t you think?

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Honestly, I don’t even know where to begin. It might be a shorter catalogue if we just discuss what DOESN’T hurt tonight. And for a change it has nothing to do with having had 4 kids in 19 months, or being 36 or even just because I’m a clumsy ox and always have been. Well…I’m sure all those things factor in, but they’re not THE reason.

I’m finally ready to come out in the open and admit that I’m training for a 5K. Seriously. Despite the bursitic hip and the trick knee and the … well, you name it. Despite all the really great reasons to snuggle into my comfy chair with my kindle or my knitting or the remote control, I decided to throw caution to the wind and just see what I could do.

Answer? Very little without hurting myself. But I was prepared for this eventuality and had laid in a mind boggling supply of ibuprofen as a defense. Two weeks ago, I took a couple of 30 minute walks. My tush got sore after the first one. Instead of falling back on my usual excuses — too busy, too old, too out of shape  – I realized that right now, today, is as good as it’s gonna get physically. I’m not getting any younger or more coordinated sitting around on my now tender tush. And so I embarked on Week 1 of a real-live, honest-to-goodness training program. Appropriately, it’s one designed for Couch Potatoes.

Week one consisted of three workouts, each consisting of a 5 minute warmup walk followed by alternating 60 seconds of running with 90 seconds of walking for a total of 20 minutes. Monday, I ran outside, taking care to appreciate the gorgeous fall weather, the birds singing, the ragweed. Ragweed? I finished my workout, drug myself into the kitchen for a big glass of water and a nice Sudafed/Advil cocktail.

Wednesday, I wimped out a little and did my workout on a treadmill. Indoors. With air conditioning. I couldn’t believe how much of a cheat this was. Apparently, the treadmill absorbs a lot of the impact. Perhaps because it’s propelling your feet backward, there’s just not as much effort involved. Workout #2 was a breeze.

Friday, Sam…no wait, Will…or was it Tom? In any case, somebody had a fever (definitely Will now that I think about it), so I missed my scheduled workout. But did that stop me? No, it did NOT! I finished my final workout of Week One on Saturday…OUTSIDE no less. Can I get a hallelujah?

Today, I started Week 2. Unfortunately, I mis-remembered the directions and gave myself a MUCH harder workout than I intended. But I survived! I’d love to tell you more about it, but I’m going munch on some more Advil now. If you’d like to join me on the road to a 5k, check out the plan here.

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Today is the second day of my road to recovery. I’ve signed up for Weight Watchers Online — and I’m actually logging every bite that goes in my mouth. Since yesterday, I’ve discovered a major source of previously unidentified calories — the boys’ leftovers. Case in point: I had to force myself to march to the garbage with a completely untouched warm brownie earlier today. Sam insisted it was the only thing he could stomach for lunch, then took one look, wrinkled his nose and asked, “It’s chocolate?”

“Yes, son…It’s a brownie,” I said flatly. “They’re always chocolate.”

“I not like it,” he shrugged. Turning away, he tossed over his shoulder, “Just throw it away.”

I stared down at its warm, gooey, goodness. It begged me to take just one tiny bite. I picked up the carton and read the completely sickening nutritional information. How many calories for this one (giant) brownie??? One forkful would pack at least 50 calories. Hmmm…I grabbed a fork, took one quick bite (What? Am I made of stone?), then I flipped the bowl upside down and squashed it deep into the garbage can. Disaster averted. Well…mostly. It could definitely have been worse.

Tonight we’re having a Mexican-inspired brown rice casserole with grilled pork tenderloin. Tomorrow night, I think I’ll add a few veggies, the leftover pork, some garlic, ginger and soy sauce to the plain rice I set aside and tell the boys it’s pork fried rice — while I make do with mostly veggies.

With a little luck and a LOT of willpower, I plan to be back in my cute jeans by fall. Twenty pounds is a big scary number, but at least I’ve stopped the downhill slide and am on my way back to a healthier, more comfortable me.

Got any favorite healthy recipes or diet tips? I’m all ears. In the same boat and want a buddy? Shoot me an e-mail and we’ll suffer through together. I may be too late to salvage swimsuit season, but just watch me rock a turtleneck this winter.

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So Al Gore wins a Nobel Prize for writing a book of gloom and doom, right? I ask you, where’s this kid’s plaque and prize money?

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Not to be outdone, my BFF Bethany (I’m so beyond the age of having only one BFF — why limit myself?) quickly weighed in with this little show-stopper that literally had our jaws dropping. Note the choice of fabrics, including camouflage, for when boring white just doesn’t fit your mood (swings). I’ll admit that my bra usually matches my underwear, but I think this carries accessorizing just a bit far. Please also enjoy the completely inappropriate sharing of intimate details of the maker’s menstrual cycle. One of the many reasons this little exchange had me laughing all evening.

Happy Friday everybody! You’ve made it! Just keep smiling until your boss sneaks out at 3:00 pm. Then make your break for the door.

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