In A Pace Bunny’s Shoes
Just this past Sunday, I ran as a pace bunny for a full marathon, for the first time ever.
It’s worth noting that I have run as a pace bunny before, but only for a half-marathon. I knew the general duties and had a good grasp of how to control my pace. A full marathon, though, is twice that distance (the math checks out, even I can’t mess that one up) and the Edmonton Marathon is a much bigger event. There’s definitely a greater intimidation factor that comes along with it, even if pacing a 4:15 finish time, in the context of my own athletic ability, would be a walk in the park. I spent a lot of time leading up to the event... thinking.
Yeah, all philosophical and shit. Prior to pacing the Edmonton Marathon, I received some questions that I had been mulling over leading up to the event. Mainly along the lines of 1) How can I control my pace? and 2) Why even bother pacing a marathon? Or any race at all?
Number one is the easiest to answer. It takes practice and learning to take it easy. It takes time to appreciate running slow just as much as most people appreciate a fast run. Also, shoutout to my watch for doing all the work. Let’s be real, my internal clock isn’t that good (or good at all).
(please ignore the smear of energy gel on my face, I’m worse than a baby)
Number two, however, is the more interesting question.
Running is advertised as an incredibly independent sport. Insert Athlete’s Name Here does all of these things! They’re so fast! They’re sponsored by so and so! It’s not a wrong mentality when, in reality, it is just one person that we focus on from the start line to the finish line. Still, as a runner, I find that the moment I lose touch with the people around me is the moment the whole sport becomes a lot more difficult and a lot less enjoyable.
Running is not a team sport--this is the first impression that most people get, and yet in my own experience, I have discovered quite the opposite. I have fond memories of training with my entire team when I ran cross country and track in high school. My teammates pushed me to be better and stronger. Every time I’ve been close to a marathon finish line, there’s always someone beside me telling me I can do it, I can gun it to the end, I’ve got this. When I lived in BC, Kintec employees helped me pick out the best shoes, and here in Edmonton that turned into the Running Room. I’ve always had good morning and congratulations texts from my parents to look forward to, for every race.
The evidence doesn’t lie: even the best runners would struggle to succeed without a team to back them up. Olympic marathoners always thank their family and coaches. Eliud Kipchoge, the fastest marathoner, is backed up by an entire team as he takes on the INEOS 1:59 Challenge. It’s all right in front of us.
And yet, I’ve always found it difficult to express to people just how valuable a team can be, when it comes to running. Of course, actions speak louder than words, and that was how I first decided to run as a pace bunny. A way to pay it forward, for all of the years that I ran races and there were other people pacing me the entire way or giving me my stats as I passed a marker.
So out I went, ready to pace a full marathon. I had ran the Edmonton Marathon three times before, knew the course like the back of my hand. I had run my personal best on it, my Boston Qualifying time of 3:25:25. Physically speaking, finishing 4:15 was more than doable. The part that made me a little nervous was whether I had what it took to make the runners that wanted to stick with our group feel like they were strong enough to do so.
That’s what a running team does, at the end of the day. Every person, throughout training and to the very last step of the race, is there to make the runner feel as if they can take on anything. To make them feel stronger and run faster than they thought they could, and to make them proud of their achievement. And in order to prove to myself--and anyone else--that running is not the lone wolf trope people make it out to be, I knew I had to fill that role.
When the couple that had kept up with me and the other 4:15 pacer for most of the marathon came up to me afterwards to tell me how grateful they were and that I did a great job was the moment I realized I had accomplished just that.
The race had been easy on my body and I had spent most of it cheering people on--both those in our group and those passing by us in the opposite direction. It had been fun and exciting. I saw a friend that I had helped train for the marathon, her very first one, tailing behind the 3:45 group. I saw other familiar faces that were enjoying the day. I talked to everyone in my own 4:15 group and got to know them all a little bit: the couple that always ran their marathons together, the retired woman running her first ever marathon on her birthday, the ultra-marathoner that had just done a timed ultra in Vegas a couple months prior.
There is no denying that racing is fun. I love speeding along a road, chasing PBs and pushing my limits. But enjoying these moments is important. Appreciating every person that came out to do something so challenging, cheering people on when they most need to hear it, encouraging them to stay ahead of you, to beat their own goals--focusing on other people and their relationship with running has done wonders for resetting my own passion. It’s incredibly easy to get wrapped up in technical talk and obsessive over every tiny little stat. Easy to fall victim to the same I Work Alone trope that everyone sees when they look at running, and therefore play a bigger role in perpetuating that very wrong impression instead of correcting it. This is toxic, though, and it can feed into something unhealthy. Taking the time to appreciate that the community is much bigger than me, to put my own desires on the back-burner and use my experience to help someone else, is a wonderful reminder of why I have been running for so long with no desire to give it up.
If you feel bored or unsatisfied in your running, if you feel your mind hitting a massive block every time your foot hits the pavement, take it as a sign that you need to do something different. Step back and do something for someone else. Explore a new trail with a friend or join a free run club. Volunteer to man an aid station for a race. Crew for someone running an ultra. Reset your perspective.
Healthy runners never work alone.
