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The beautiful—and scary—Australian landscape that leads to the gate.

The latest edition of In Her Shoes—tales that got left on the cutting room floor while writing Tales From Another Mother Runner—takes us Down Under.

While I was training for a half-marathon, I took my three young children to our tiny, humble hut in the forest about two hours from Melbourne, Australia. The race was a significant run for me as I had pretty much stopped all forms of exercise after my first child was born, and didn’t pick anything up again until my third was fifteen months old.

I couldn’t leave my young kids awake and alone in the hut while I got my 50-minute training run in; they would have tried to follow me. So I put them to bed first and made sure they were sound asleep.

The night was raining and foggy, so there wasn’t any moon. It was pitch black. I decided to just run to our front gate—almost two kilometers round-trip—however many times until 50 minutes was up. I had a torch in each hand, and set off with that wonderful feeling of freedom and an “I can do this run, even though I am out in the wilderness,” attitude.

Airlie and her daughter after a 4K...in daylight.

Airlie and her daughter after a 4K…in daylight.

I made it to the gate once. I could hear the kangaroos bounding around me—no doubt, to get away from this strangely illuminated creature huffing and panting—but I could never catch one in the torchlight. I worried one might bound into me and injure me.

Without intending to, I started barking. I’m not too sure why. Perhaps it was a primitive ploy to trick the ‘roos into thinking I was a dingo? I gave up my grand plans of two-kilometer laps and downsized to laps of the hut, but even that seemed to be venturing too far out into the darkness. In my imagination, it was “Blair Witch” territory out there, and my own puffing seemed like an audible beacon to any wildlife in the dark!

In the end, I completed my run with tiny circles around the campfire, where my two dogs, who should’ve been accompanying me, were snoozing. I probably ran about 600 laps and I dealt with the dizziness factor by running four times clockwise, four times counterclockwise in a sort of figure-8 pattern at the changeover. That helped keep my brain occupied, too. I was wide eyed and adrenaline fueled the whole time.

I should have had a s’more when I finished, but I went for a hot cup of tea and some chocolate instead.

—Airlie (Calls emergency pitstops an “attack of the 1812’s” after Tchaikovsky’s explosive 1812 Overture.)

Inquiring minds want to know: Have you ever had an encounter (or near encounter) with a wild animal while on a run?