Running and I do not share a mutual fondness. I believe running is for people trying to escape serial killers and should not be included on anyone's list of favourite pastimes, let alone be considered a competitive sport. Surely the people left alive at the end of the killer's rampage are testament to their running prowess? However, I'm fairly certain that if a serial killer came a-knocking I'd develop a sudden urge to indulge in the activity if; A) his knives are bigger than mine; B) He's twice my size and thus my inner Liam Neeson decides to hide under my skirts or C) he's packing a bazooka.

I loathe running and it most certainly does not agree with women with large breasts and previously dislocated knee joints therefore we avoid each other as much as possible,

I find that people who run for fun are snobby, lycra-wearing, elitist pigs who disdain those of us who prefer to get our sporting kicks in a manner more courageous than pissbolting away - does it strike anyone else as odd that people are praised for what essentially amounts to cowardice, running away? And I now have proof that running for fun will in fact cause you harm!

Feast your eyes on this!

Take that elitists! Be careful who you next mock for their inability to complete a 5km run in under an hour - you might accidentally die in a fire. Running will kill you.

I can see nothing but white everywhere I look. The whole mountain is covered in some serious snow and it doesn't help there's massive fog and winds.

Thanks to everyone who directed their thoughts of not breaking things to Mr Kaitee. Unfortunately my sarcasm seems to have actually had an effect and the twit has wrecked his elbow... on day one of all things. So my prediction of him falling over and getting the shits for the rest of the trip also seems to have come true. Perhaps one day I will just learn to shut my mouth.

Anyway, it's fucking cold and visibility sucks. I'm waiting until after lunch to see if I bother heading up or not. I'm not a fan of little kiddies crashing into me, the little shits seem to know exactly what part of your body doesn't already hurt and then ram a ski into it so that it does. If it doesn't clear up I'm going snow tubing. Sounds like fun anyway. After today it should be pretty good, even if the weather still sucks - because all the school groups go home! Hurrah! No more teenagers!

Mr Kaitee is all grumpy sitting at a table by himself and my 20 minutes is up.

With that overly dramatic announcement I shall take this opportunity to exit stage left.

I am going to a wedding on Sunday 20 zillion miles away.  With any luck it will be the last one for this year, because I've spent over $2000 on this wedding alone and $825 for the wedding three weeks prior (although to be fair the first wedding didn't require me to actually travel to the opposite side of the state) so if any more of my drongo friends decide to get married this year they can go to hell.  And don't any of you aspiring Bridezillas tell me that it's already August and no sane person would suddenly decide to get married before the year ends, because last year it happened twice.

The day after the wedding, as sort of a congratulatory present for having survived the wedding season (silly season) as well as not succumbing to the temptation to kill myself because I have a full time job on top of full time university and the entire universe has been lining up to take potshots at me this week, I am taking myself away to the colder climates and indulging myself in a week of snowboarding.

The best part of this trip however is going to be seeing how Mr Kaitee manages to hold up. He's never seen snow before in his entire life and rarely ventures outdoors because he's afraid of the sun. He can't stand not being good at something so I'm predicting that on his first day he's going to make a mammoth effort to coat his body in bruises and spend the night complaining that I'm an evil heinous bitch for dragging him out of his cave and away from his precious guitars and internet. Then I will throw back in his face the line "Well how do you expect to get good if you don't practice?" which is his response to me bitching that my skills in something are less than perfect, which of course would never happen because I am perfect and I kill anyone who sees me being otherwise. Then he will complain some more about how bored he is without the internet and I will throw a book at his head and he will get pissy because I hit him in the eye or gave him a papercut and anyway he doesn't read books and I should know this and just give up my stupid quest to make him.

He should be glad however I am not evil enough to do to him what Mr E did to me when I first got the impulse to strap a piece of wood to my feet and hurtle face first down a mountain. Mr E dragged me to the top of the mountain and threw me off  "See you at the bottom bitch" he said and went whooshing down the slopes leaving me alone thinking "Fuck me, I am so going to die".  Obviously I didn't die and karma hit back very nicely when he went arse over tit on a jump and knocked out some teeth. Then he broke his arm two days later and had to spend a week sitting at the base cafe bored out of his brain while the rest of us nooblets cranked it up to the blue and black runs. Serves him right.

SO BYE!!

~Please send any thoughts about broken bones to Mr Kaitee. I have state championships in 6 weeks and do not need to be sitting around idly, waiting for the osteoblasts in my legs to form bony calluses to repair any fractures so I can walk again. He sits on his arse all day anyway.

When you think of slogging it out in the gym, I bet you think of young, tanned, muscular men and their slightly smaller but equally tanned and toned female counterparts.

I've had a zillion gym memberships in every suburb I've ever lived since I was about 16 and I've learned that nowehere else on Earth do you find such a diverse range of people. They come in all shapes and sizes, they're there for all sorts of different reasons. Some are lazy. Some are intensely dedicated. Some are young. Some are old. It never ceases to amaze me.

I went to the gym this afternoon. My gym is fairly small local one. It boasts only a handful of weights and machines, a room for classes and another one for RPM classes. But the range of people is incredible and I love how it's really one place where the usual stereotypes are chucked out of the window.

For instance, I myself love going to the gym and my father is a personal trainer. But I have huge boobs and a fat bum and he's a formerly obese middle aged male (sorry dad).  You could look at him easily and just think he's nothing special compared to the muscle bound twits that are immediately called to mind when you think of personal trainers, but he's a man who once weighed as much as all five of his children together (to be fair, we were a lot younger then) who completed an 80km marathon, in the dark, starting at 1am, up the Glasshouse mountains with guys 20 years younger than him. Not even your average gym junkie could do that (and I certainly wouldn't ever entertain the idea, let alone attempt it).  He attempted to ride the 2500km between Killarney and Cairns but was forced to train it home from Rockhampton after several incidents of getting stupidly lost (as will happen when you have a bunch of men and lots of gadgets but lacking the ability to read a map). You could look at me and be forgiven for thinking that with my baggy clothes and red face that I'm a lazy sot (which is sometimes true I'll admit). I'm built like a brick shithouse and I can carry my other half around with as much ease as I can my 2 year old cousin (he doesn't squirm as much or try and smack me in the head with wooden blocks so that makes it a bit easier).

I have been on a treadmill next to someone 3 times my size who was running at twice the incline I was and almost twice as fast - if I ever ran that fast I would probably have an epic accident of tripping up and having the belt tear my face off after catching my earrings or nose ring. I have seen skinny people struggle to lift the first weight on any of the weight machines. I have seen an old man, who had to have been well into his 70's, outpace the athletic young girl next to him. I've seen all sorts and all sizes defying every stereotype you can imagine.

Some people are there to overcome the terrible fate genetics handed them (like me), others are there to train for specific events, others are there to make an effort to improve themselves, others are there to build up strength as part of their rehabilitation (like after an accident or a long illness) and others just do it because they want to.  But I never get tired of going to the gym and seeing firsthand exactly how rubbish stereotypes really are.

Now if the rest of the world would just relax it's rigid assumption that the only people worth anything are skinny little twats in lycra, the world would be a much happier place.