Kilowatt; Killer What

So today spent nine hours walking up Merrett’s Trail at Thredbo in the Snowy Mountains. At day’s end legs feel like they’ve spent a week on the Stairmaster, knees turned to custard and more heavy breathing than a Tiger Woods phone call to Las Vegas. And for what? According to the magic predictor watch that my husband has melded to his body, an underwhelming 7,000 kilojoules. That is less than the average woman’s daily requirement. And owing to the beers, post walk hot chips and Lindt factory’s worth of chocolate I devoured I don’t reckon I’m ahead but have knees that cpuld use a zimmer frame right now. More proof, not that we need it that life’s not fair, just like grandma told us.


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