Being on TV is a junkie kind of rush. Even if you’re as stuck up as I am about it, you fall into hoping TV’s magic will transform you during the broadcast into something larger than life. But then you get airbrushed with make-up (new for HD, it feels soft and good), the mic-man publicly undresses you to the navel a minute before the segment starts, and you’re rushed off the set in another two minutes feeling more, not less, inconsequential.
Redfin was on Fox & Friends’ segment this Sunday to talk about our business model (save $10,000!) and to answer the usual questions (we’re not putting anyone out of business). At the end of it I felt a little blue. I walked through the saddest place on earth, a darkened “Geraldo!” set. The streets in midtown Manhattan were empty at 7:30 a.m. I answered an email from a lone Connecticut fan wondering about our expansion plans. I called my mom, and told her my day felt already over. I remembered that a 60 Minutes producer — he was such a prince — once said “everyone is always depressed after the interview.”
Then I got on the 1 subway uptown… and saw people in tank-tops and bibs. A race!
I got back to my room, changed, and ran to Central Park, in what I only then realized was an event for disabled & able-bodied people alike (registration fee paid later).
As usual for Manhattan, folks lined up for the seven-minute-a-mile pace who would almost immediately begin walking, leading to altercations with punier, faster runners. There was a small-voiced, encouraging speech by New York Road Runner’s president Mary Wittenberg and, from the beginning — and all the way through — there was cheering. I LOVE people cheering! Why don’t we do that more often?
And there were so many runners -– I had not thought there could be so many — competing on prosthetic legs, of an age that many must have been injured in Iraq. A large, magnificently muscled man running outside the lane and against the current was yelling, Marine-style: “UP AND OVER, UP AND OVER, COME ON.” It was good to see some of the vets running together. We can never re-pay them. It’s hard not to be almost-scared of the intensity of their experience. But everyone on the course was glad to be doing something with them.
A few racers ran arm-in-arm with their parents, very close to one another, some encouraging me though I should have been the one encouraging them. Melted make-up streamed down my face. And perhaps because I was deranged from trying to run faster than I really could, or because of the cheering, I was overcome with love.