Eat Mangos, Kick Butt

Being from Western Pennsylvania, in addition to the reality of death and taxes, for us cyclists (and skiers for that matter) there is an additional reality called "hills". I reserve the word "mountain" for something that towers thousands of feet upwards. None-the-less, we have hills in Western Pennsylvania. Not tall, but certainly very steep.

I ride often with a good friend who makes a point of kicking my butt up ever hill we encounter. Until recently, that too was a reality.

One Saturday morning I was scrounging for pre-ride food. By happenstance, I came upon a bag of dried, sweetened mango slices. Finding nothing better, I devoured what was left of the bag and went for the ride.

During this particular ride we typically hit a hill that is approximately a mile and a half long. Its isn't a particularly steep hill, just long. I start up the hill first, with my friend right behind me. As we progressed up the hill, I expected my friend to pass me. To my surprise when I got to the top, I looked around only to find my friend 100 yards behind. Once we met up at the top of the hill, my first question to my friend was "what happened to you?" to which his reply was, "I was going to ask the same thing".

I thought little of my triumph, until the next time I road with my friend. Again, I ate mango and again I kicked his butt up each hill. This has pretty much happened each time we have ridden since.

Now, I would love to think that I have magically become a better rider or that my body has encountered some physiologic metamorphosis. But, honestly the only change that I can point to is my pre-ride diet of mangos.

So, the moral of the story is - Eat Mangos, Kick Butt