The triathlon, Smiter style

An active Smiter is a happy Smiter, and today I am a giddy Smiter indeed.

The background goes thusly: Last weekend, after a year of being sidelined from running by a bad case of plantar fasciitis and a heel spur, I was well enough to buy a pair of running shoes.

It's enough to give a girl a shoe fetish.

Then last week, I dropped my bike off at the shop for a tune-up – true to Smiter’s Law, it cost me far less to fix up my bike than it did to fix ME up after last autumn’s spectacular crash.

The crash site. (No, I didn't see the damn sign. I came from the other direction.)

I picked the bike up on Friday, and this morning I was back up on two wheels for a nice bracing 45-minute ride (about 20k, I suppose) to make sure everything worked (including me). I am taking part in a mountain-biking relay in a couple of weeks’ time (the cheekily named “Dirt Diva” event in King City) and have a training ride with my team, the ferocious Durham Dragons, tomorrow night. So I need to make sure all is in working order.

And then to make sure the shoes and my foot are working as a team, I followed that up with a jaunty 5K run around the neighbourhood.

OK, “jaunty” might be pressing the point a little. I confess that despite six months of spin classes, my running muscles (such as they are) are woefully out of shape, and after about five minutes I was huffing like a steam engine. But I kept at it and arrived home again in a decent amount of time, upright and smiling as they say.

And now, having had a nice little break (during which I have engulfed a frightfully healthy lunch of veggies, cheese and hummus, and after I go remove the bloody electrical plates in preparation for tomorrow’s Bedbug Napalm Extravaganza, Round 3), I am headed over to my friend Ann’s for a swim.

I say, would you pour me another sustainer, Jeeves?

Of course, by “swim” I mean “floating languidly around her lovely backyard pool in my bikini, gin & tonic at poolside, admiring the flowers and chatting about this & that as the birds go overhead,” which probably does not qualify, technically, as the aquatic portion of a typical triathlon event.

But hey – it’s been a hell of a year, and for all intents and purposes, despite the odds, I am back in the saddle again.

And thus is born the “Smiter Triathlon.” For more information on how to participate, or how to run a Smiter Triathlon of your own, please contact me at the link on this page.

I’ll be in the pool if you need me, kicking my legs at long intervals and calling to the race officials to freshen my drink.

Smiter out.

I wonder if they make gin-flavoured gels....

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