Fear

Living in the city is dangerous.  Making art is dangerous.  International travel.  Public events, public transportation, public gatherings.

Now marathon running and spectating.

On Sept 11, 2002 I walked home.  A year after 9/11, and the most fearful experience of my life, I walked as much of the way I had "fled" the year before.  I had to.

On 9/11, I was with two coworkers after our building was evacuated.  We were a quarter mile south of the Trade Center.  One, in her 60s,  hadn't walked more than a few blocks in years.  She had just put on her high heel office shoes.  We walked up the FDR, got her over the median, then up the ramp to the Brooklyn Bridge.  It was dark, smoky, and we didn't know what had happened.  I thought we had been bombed. We heard the towers were down, but knew little else.

There was a moment when the smoke was thick as a wall.  Impossible to see.  Breathing was awful.  I was worried my coworker might have a heart attack.  We had to decide whether to go forward, get on the bridge, and over to Brooklyn.  Or to backtrack.  Like a movie, a screaming woman emerged from the smoke telling us not to get on the bridge.  We had to choose.  It seemed like combat.

I think of that moment often.  We walked through the wall of debris, smoke, and ash to emerge into startling sunlight at the peak of the bridge.  We looked like the powdered sugar people you saw on the news. Then down, around, into Brooklyn Heights.  Another mile to home.

In 2002, the walk over the bridge was my way of claiming the city I love.

Now runners will have to do the same.  All of us really.  We know the risks of being out there, we know the immense pleasure and sense of community too.

With feet on the earth, the pavement, and the park trails, we connect to each other.  Runners raise billions of dollars, largely for health oriented non-profits.  On marathon day in any city, the locals are the banks and the runners a river of effort, pride, and celebration.

I know there are bad people out there.  I try not to live in fear.  I also know the sensation when danger is close, violence is real, and the stakes are high.  Marathon running has been polarizing this year, and people in Boston and NY have lost so much.  Now races, a place of respite and community, will have an edge of anxiety.

We will be out there.  The talk about upcoming events, pace hopes, team gatherings is amping up.  I hope my kids will watch many NY marathons and maybe run them some day.  Hope to see you in the park, or hear about your training.  Or meet you on a plane or train en route to special race.

Blessings to Boston.  Waves of love and anger for those who were killed and injured. We will be holding the runners and spectators, victims and victors,  close and in our hearts for a long time.

Boy Scouts Marching the 2012 Boston Marathon route.  Mile 20.

Paris Fundrunning

A week ago today I ran the Paris Marathon.  I raised money for my charity, ran with my team, and had a remarkable out of country experience.

I started distance running about the same time I began consulting.  After years as a staffer working membership programs, I wanted to explore new turf.  Find out how different organizations relate to their donors.  And kick up my knowledge of fundraising with social media.

The running is personal.  I enjoy it, and have found the stereotypes largely true.  My life has changed, I've met incredible people, and I feel connected to city life by traversing streets, paths, and bridges.  After the long walk home on 9/11, running gives me peace in NYC.

Fundraising when I run is my value added.  Setting a goal, working with great organizations and trying new techniques bring my work into focus.  For charity race entry,  I employ different asks and acknowledgements.  I put myself out there. The scale is utterly different, but I believe it helps me encourage clients to take risks.

Blending my personal and professional pursuits moves me forward.  I'm proud of the money I raised to run in Paris for Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.  The fundrunning went very well!  I'm equally pleased to have been one of 1000 US runners in a field of 38,000 finishers.

I'm honing my skills and offerings this year.  An emphasis on the new and innovative, with a steady eye on stewardship and donor relations.  Stronger, efficient programs with clear, insightful messages.

I don't usually promote or share race photos.  But this post is about transparency and freeing my activities from distinct corrals.  I look forward to more challenges, discoveries and team work.  Merci.

Campaigns

I saw Girl Rising this week.  And was lucky to meet journalist and filmmaker Holly Gordon.

The film is extraordinary, the stories powerful, and the girls amazing.

The message is simple:  when girls are educated, health, economics and all quality of life factors rise.  Educating girls counters horrifying cycles of violence, child marriage, and even child slavery.  

It is one thing we can do to make change real.  10x10 (10 girls, 10 in-country story tellers) is the organization behind the message.

Their infrastructure is compelling.  Donate to 10x10, and money is equally distributed to partner organizations promoting girls' education and literacy.

I asked Holly whether the project would morph into a nonprofit.  She said it was a campaign.  The clarity of that one word snapped much into focus.

This moment is about impact, social good, wide reach, and the democratizing thrill of social media. I still believe there are ways for traditional fundraising techniques to lift giving and strengthen relationships.  Treating donors not as members, but as players, participants, partners could be key.

See the film, spread the word, and definitely support the campaign.

http://girlrising.com

Acts of Love

An organization's lifeblood is often predictable membership income.

Planted with acquisition.  Cultivated through appeal and renewal management.

But sometimes there is a storm.  Literally or symbolically.  A sudden upsurge in giving, a flood that wipes out programs, or a passionate group that just can't help but spread an organization's story.

The speed and creativity of new media bring a different lens to traditional models.  We know the "best" non-profits engage wide, encourage conversation, open institutional walls.

Social media is Usain Bolt.  Direct marketing Meb Keflezighi.

Now, there is street cred for individuals making the asks. The new toys are fun and easy.  No longer isolated or restricted to the professionals, fundraising is an act of love.

For 2013, I have a core question. How does the social media vortex meet the brick and mortar of traditional non-profits?  It's not just a matter of who's doing it best, or measuring success, but will the spin of so many voices (and videos and images) bend the base of historic institutions?

For non-profits, it is a wild and fruitful time.  New orgs are birthed as rapidly as apps.  It's about passion for a cause.  What's yours?

A Start

The energy at the start is unusual.

Runners are twitchy.  Most trained up and ready.  Some there for fun, health, ego.

Running as metaphor is an easy fit for me.  Perhaps too easy.  Fundraisers and runners love numbers.  Wild for them.  We hang our success on our low numbers (runners) and gauge our program's vitality on high ones (you follow me, yes?).  Get distance runners together, and terms like "split" or PR punctuate the discussion.  With fundraisers, "response rate" and "average gift" or, even better, "sustainer" are our audibles.

But there is no place like the start.  Where the planning, thinking, training and testing pull together.

That's what I most look forward to with my new professional projects.  Enjoying the launch, meeting new clients, and bringing my skills to today's bold philanthropic culture.

These posts will relay my discoveries.  This is the first, and I'm privileged to work with two fantastic clients currently. I have goals for my work that will stretch me, and them.  I'm optimistic and ready.

Thanks for reading.