For us annoyingly competitive Type-A personalities, there’s nothing quite as alluring as a challenge that sits on the border of possible and impossible. That sweet spot that grabs our attention and holds onto it for dear life.
Sometimes a friend will accidently voice a challenge without realising the chaos they’ve unleashed. It slips out and before they can stumble over ‘I’m joking of course,’ they’re packing lightweight tents and reluctantly cancelling their weekend plans to crew me as I follow through with it.
“If I sent a letter Express post to Boonah, think you could beat it on foot?” said Callum, half watching Beau Miles on YouTube, half shovelling popcorn into his face.
“Hmm, how far?” I reply, my attention piqued.
Callum hesitates, “about 120km.”
I lean for my laptop, open Maps and start to create a route that could get me to Boonah, due West of the Gold Coast, as directly as possible.
To make it a fair fight, I wouldn’t start running until the letter was in the hands of Australia Post, which unfortunately didn’t open until 9am the following morning. I argued that 9am made it less fair, as the Queensland sun was utterly pelting down by this point, and the letter had the advantage of the air-conditioned comfort of the delivery truck. Callum countered that nobody is actually making me do this, resulting in me promptly shutting up.
So, I ran. For as long as I could in a Westerly direction. Roads slowly turned from suburban streets, to Interstates, to long dirt roads as the Gold Coast slipped away behind me. The thermostat was in the red and I was soon soaked through from sweat. I could hear the Kookaburra’s laughing at me from the cool shade of the Eucalypts above. I cursed my stubborn nature.
As towns became few and far between the beauty of the surrounding hinterlands began to distract me from the race. Well, until the distance grumble of an engine broke me from my reverie, and I’d turn to be sure it wasn’t he distinguished yellow of the Express Post van.
As the sun set on day one, I’d covered around half the distance to Boonah. We pitched our tent in a paddock and ate pasta surrounded by curious calves rightfully wondering what we were doing on their turf. Amongst the serenity, I took a moment to think of the letter and wondered where it had tucked itself in for the night.
Dawn of day two and I knew it would be make or break. Express Post guarantees next day delivery, so I didn’t dawdle.
I could see two routes to Boonah from camp. The safe route was to follow the Beaudesert-Boonah highway directly into town. It provided easy access to my support crew but was both exposed and uninspiring and I was getting a sore neck from constantly turning to check the postie wasn’t passing me.
The second, more appealing, option was to cut through private land, over a ridgeline and along a fire track through the bush. As I knocked tentatively on the gatekeeper’s door, I was met by a shirtless man in his late 50’s.
“Howya garn?” he greeted me.
After a quick explanation of my goal and the reason I was seeking permission to cross his land, he returned with a nod and a stern warning.
“I aint gonna stop ya runnin’ by all means, but i’ll warn ya, there’s a pack a’dogs out there that’ll bother ya. If ya go, take a stick t’be safe.”
I think it’s a testament to how much I prefer the bush to running besides the freeway that I took the risk to continue, alone, without phone reception, through rugged wilderness for 47km into Boonah.
Thankfully, the worst thing to happen to me was a pair of scratched up shins from the low-rise shrub. But I didn’t care. I’d made it to Boonah post office!
I just had to cross my fingers I’d done it fast enough.
Walking up to the counter covered in mud, sweat and sticks, I politely asked if any post had come in for me. My heart was pounding, my blistered toes crossed in hope.
After a quick search, I was offered a look of condolence.
“Oh, I’m sorry, we don’t seem to have it just yet. If you wait around, Larry usually rolls in around 3pm.”
I didn’t hear anything after, ‘I’m sorry.’
Filled with elation, I gave her a big smile and walked out of the post office with my head held high. I’d won Callum’s pointless challenge against an opponent who didn’t know we were racing.
I felt on top of the world.
Now friends, please, let’s keep challenges hush hush for a little while. I’m tired.

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