Pedaling away in spin class this morning, and when I wasn’t thinking about possibly hurling, I was considering how fame can ruin people.
 

I’m not sure how exactly I made this jump from queasiness to Kris Allen and “Jon & Kate, Plus 8.” But oddly, I have been feeling sorry for the whole bunch of them.
 

Maybe it is because I have seen fame relatively close up. And I have observed how, in this country, the more famous someone becomes, the harder, seemingly, they must eventually be brought down. In a broad sense, the profession in which I have made my living has been largely responsible for this.
 

I’m not referring to athletes so much. Other than the really big names/steroid users, most athletes can live fairly normal lives without worrying about showing up on the cover of the National Enquirer.
 

Sure, they have to deal with being interrupted at dinner with their families, and I’m sure that can get tiresome.
 

But frankly, that seems a pretty small price to pay for the salaries most of them earn. And after their careers are over, most can retreat back to living even more normal lives paying for their own meals, making reservations for dinner and no doubt craving the attention they may have complained about before.
 

I remember when the Chicago Bulls were winning championships in the early 90s, their young reserve center Will Perdue told me he used to enjoy going to one place in particular for lunch because afterward, the waitress would not merely give him and his teammates leftovers in a goody bag. She would bring several shopping bags to their table loaded with bags of bagels and desserts.
 

At 25, 26, I’m sure he thought this was not that unusual, and that he would walk out of restaurants with giant bags of extra food forever. Maybe he even thought we all walked out with enough stuff to stock a small food pantry, though I think he was smarter than that.
 

He’s also lucky because he got out unscathed.
 

After Kris Allen was named the winner of American Idol earlier this week, one of my friends remarked casually that his marriage was over. Here was this adorable 23-year-old man with his adorable wife, who were hugging each other minutes after the biggest moment of their lives, and all across America, people were shaking their heads and lamenting that their marriage would soon be in trouble.
 

OK, well maybe not all across America, but at least in all the cynical sections like the one where I apparently reside.
 

It’s not that the pessimistic among us assume this apparently upstanding guy will suddenly become unfaithful. It’s just that the sheer volume of attention and scrutiny and yes, guaranteed aggressiveness from female fans, is sure to put added pressure on the marriage.
 

He went from a college kid to a celebrity of huge proportion in a matter of months, arguably even weeks. And his life is no longer his own. While that will undoubtedly bring with it more money than he could have imagined making a few months ago, as well as a career he apparently dreamed of having, you know it will also come at a cost because it’s not just about plying your craft. And you wonder if it will all be worth it for him in the long run.
 

Same thing with Jon and Kate. When my daughter and I first stumbled across TLC and a show called “Jon & Kate Plus 8,” four years ago, it was like our own private discovery. No one was watching the network, much less this little reality show about a Pennsylvania couple who had twin girls and infant sextuplets.
 

In a matter of a few weeks, my daughter Amanda could differentiate between all the kids by name. In a few months, I was considering writing to Kate and telling her that if she needed a babysitter or summer girl, I had the perfect one.
 

I loved Kate. She was totally together and organized and smart and funny, even when she was losing her mind and her husband was annoying her and her life was out of her control. Her husband Jon was cute and funny also, sweet but no pushover, took as well as gave back to his wife during the daily little sniping that all couples without eight children do.
 

And then you hear that Kate is being savaged in the Internet for being so bossy and nasty to her husband. And Jon is photographed at a college party with female co-eds and again, with a younger woman with whom he has been accused of having an affair, all of which he has downplayed and denied.
 

When the show started, Kate said she allowed cameras to invade their lives because she loved the idea of having this amazing video diary of her children since she clearly no longer had time to do it herself. And yes, you knew they were being paid, though you never thought it was enough to radically change their lifestyle given their modest home and the way they lived.
 

You surely didn’t resent them.
 

But then they moved into a huge new house on 30-plus acres of land, Jon quit his job, Kate’s sniping seemed a little harsher as her little life expanded more with books and speaking engagements and yes, fame. 
 

When I saw her on the cover of People Magazine with scandalous headlines last week, I had to blink a few times, like I was seeing my sister or my neighbor. Such is the nature and attraction of reality TV that we are drawn to it by the very intimacy I felt with perfect strangers. It’s goofy. Now the two are splattered across dozens of magazines and tabloids, not to mention the entertainment shows, their marital status up for grabs, and with the first episode of Season 5 upon us, it’s enough to consider actually watching it live.
 

OK, I think I’ve been out of work long enough.
 

But seriously, I actually just went to the TLC website to see what’s up – telling myself it was all in the interest of good, solid reporting – and they had a little preview of what’s to come. 
 

“It’s the best thing and it’s the hardest thing that’s ever happened,” Kate said of the show and her newfound celebrity.
 

“We have to live in the public now,” said Jon. “I’m happy our show is popular but it’s hard being on this side of the camera. We don’t have any privacy at all. . . . That’s tough for me. I can’t be Jon. I have to be Jon and Kate plus eight.”
 

I was riveted. Again, I am not proud of this. But when Kate said, “We can now never go back,” I felt for the woman.
 

I wanted her new kitchen. But I felt for the woman.

Took an early-morning power walk today with my friend Shari in which we walk really fast unless, a) Shari is waving to a passing car driven by someone she doesn’t know; or b) we forget to walk really fast because c) we’re talking about something important like how long Shari would last living in a jungle.
 

This was not idle chit-chat. This was a current events topic initiated by the news story broken exclusively on the Today Show this morning that Patti Blagojevich, wife of disgraced Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich, was taking her husband’s place on the NBC reality show, “I’m a Celebrity . . . Get Me Out of Here,” set in a Costa Rican jungle.
 

Rod had been barred by a judge from appearing on the show – which I’m not entirely convinced isn’t filmed on a backlot in Burbank – because it would take him out of the country when he might need to be proclaiming his innocence on more talk shows.
 

Patti said she hoped that being on the show would put to rest her profanity-spewing image caught on federal wiretaps.
 

This would not be my first concern as I would surely begin swearing like a sailor the minute I stepped off the plane and discovered we were filming during the rainy season and that I would have nowhere to plug in a blow dryer, which, come to think of it, may have been Rod’s reason for backing out.
 

Patti said she was doing this to support her family during these tough economic times, made tougher, no doubt, when your husband is no longer able to ply his trade trying to sell the President’s vacated Senate seat or shake down companies with state business for campaign contributions. Allegedly.
 

And so I posed the question to Shari: What would she be willing to do to support her family?
 

“Anything,” she said. “For my family? Oh my God, absolutely anything.”
 

“So, you’d go to the jungle?” I asked
 

“Oh, definitely,” she said, adding for effect, “I’d even eat worms.”
 

“No, you wouldn’t,” I said, remembering that she was once grossed out by the prospect of using a shared yoga mat at the ‘Y.’
 

“Oh no,” she said proudly. “For my family? I’d eat bugs, worms. I’d climb mountains.”
 

“Would you eat a squirrel?” I asked and instantly knew I got her.
 

“Well, no, because, you know, I don’t eat meat,” she said thoughtfully.
 

“Shari, the bugs and worms wouldn’t go that far,” I pointed out. “And, incidentally, the bugs and worms are technically meat too, I think.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t eat worms,” she said, forgetting her earlier proclamation. “But I’d do anything else.”
 

“Would you kill a squirrel or a rabbit or some animal they have in Costa Rica?” I asked.
 

“Sure, I could do that,” she said.
 

“Not with a specially equipped dart blower that would put the bunny to sleep,” I pointed out, watching as her expression turned markedly less tough. “With a real knife.”
 

“A knife?”
 

I could tell I had her.
 

“Yes, Shari,” I said, going in for the proverbial kill. “A knife. With real blood.”
 

“Well, I don’t know,” she said, weakening.
 

“You wouldn’t last five minutes in the jungle,” I said. “They’d bounce you out of there in the first episode.”
 

“But I’d form alliances,” she said.
 

She had me there. She would be great forming alliances. In a day, she’d have the women a tight, united pack. Sanjaya and John Salley would be begging for mercy. Of course, on Day 2, it’s quite possible her women’s group would be arguing over who would have to kill the squirrel and Shari would have squared off with the super model who is supposedly meaner than Patti.
 

No matter. By now, Shari was bored with our conversation, so I had to quickly segue to the movie with Robert Redford and Demi Moore called “Indecent Proposal,” the one where Redford’s character offers a million bucks to Moore’s character and her husband, played by Woody Harrelson, to have Demi spend one night with Redford.
 

“A night with Robert Redford?” Shari said, when I reminded her of the movie.
 

We weren’t talking worms anymore.
 

And she didn’t have to answer.