You're No Bunny Til Some Bunny Loves You One of my running goals for 2002 was to be a pace bunny for a half-marathon race. At the National Capital ScotiaBank 1/2 Marathon in Ottawa on Mother’s Day, I was able to achieve that goal. I was a group leader for the Merivale (Nepean) Running Room Half Marathon clinic, and was asked in March by the store manager, Hilda Beauregard, to be the 2:15 bunny. Of course, I jumped at the chance and said, “Yes.” Then I spent the next wo months dreaming of the coming day, and doing the training necessary to complete a half-marathon race with everyone else in the clinic. Approaching race day I felt nervous about running for others and not being able to run my own race. The day before race day, I went to the Bank Street store for the Friendship run with John Stanton, Sandy Jacobson, and many of the other bunnies, where I was introduced. Many runners came up to me to introduce themselves and say that they’d be running with me. Wow! More pressure! I asked John Stanton if he had any advice for a first-time bunny, which of course he did: “Stay relaxed, start nice and slow, and work into your pace. Do the walk breaks, and run as even a pace as you can. You’ll do great!” Thanks, John! The next morning, as I prepared for the race, I received all sorts of attention from fellow runners—questions on where the start was, where the bag check was, what my pace was, was I running 10/1s, photo opportunities—it was a bit overwhelming. Because of this attention, I was delayed getting to the bag check, so I had to skip my last needed bathroom break. I worked my way into the crowds towards the back of the pack behind the start line, and fielded lots of the same questions as before, so I made a little speech about my race plan: “I will be running 10/1s, with as steady a pace as possible, to finish in 2 hours 14 minutes, so that we have a one minute cushion in case something happens. I will take fluids at all stations, and take gels at 45 minutes and 1 hour 30 minutes, at approximately the seven-kilometre and 14-kilometre marks.” There were cheers, nervous laughter, and encouragement all around me. Runners are such great people! There was no way I was going to feel alone today. But right at that instant I needed some solitude. So I closed my eyes for a few moments—my only chance to be alone—quickly composed myself, and prayed. The race itself went well. As soon as I started running, the pressure melted away (as it always does) and I had fun. And I discovered that being a pace bunny is not a one-person job—it was an entire group effort. I am not much of talker when I run, but some runners kept up a constant chatter, while others led the cheers every time we passed a kilometre marker on the course, crested a hill, or passed a music band. I kept track of our pace, called the walk breaks, and tried to keep everyone laughing and feeling positive. Two of my better attempts at laughter were offering to trade hats with a policeman (I thought he was going to accept!) and running off the course to kiss a spectator who was holding a sign that read, “You look great, and I’m single.” At the first kilometre marker, we were already 1 minute 45 seconds behind pace. I wasn’t sure if this was because the first kilometre was long (it was!), and I wondered if the last kilometre would be short (it was!), so I set a pace to make up that ‘lost’ 1:45, and of course, we finished 1:45 ahead of the desired time. So it was a relief to have John Stanton announce me across the line as follows: “Here is the 2 hour 15 minunte pace bunny crossing the line, and he has finished in 2:15. That was 2:15 in gun time, whereas my chip time was actually 2:12:30. Afterwards, in the crush of runners to get our medals and food, there was more attention, more photo ops, and lots of “Thanks, bunny” remarks from the runners who had run with me. I was thrilled with it all, and the attention no longer bothered me. I had been a bunny, and had done the job given me to do. It was harder work than I thought it would be—from the attention and questions before the race to carrying the 2:15 sign the whole way, and having to control my pace—at the start, when I felt fresh, and at the end, when my legs hurt, and I wanted to stretch them out and finish fast and strong. It was so neat to hear the calls: “There’s a bunny,” “Go, bunny, go!” from spectators all around the course, and reactions from runners as I came up to them—“There you are. I thought you were way in front of me!” Kids along the course were especially cute, many exclaiming, “Look, mommy, there’s a bunny!” when they saw me. One girl was holding a sign that I couldn’t read, so as I ran up to her, I asked her to hold it up so I could read it. Instead, she hid it. It must have been a secret! It was an experience that I will always cherish, and I hope to be given the opportunity to do it again. I thank Hilda and the Running Room for giving me this opportunity, and for all the gang in the Half Marathon clinic for encouraging me and helping me to achieve this goal. So, what is a pace bunny? Based on this experience, I would say that a pace bunny is a guide, a comforter, an encourager, a jester, someone to pass when you are sprinting to the finish line, someone who can answer all questions, someone in a funny hat to take pictures of and with, someone to rally to when the going gets tough, a stable force, and, last but not least, a pace-setter! Have fun!