Dear Doper Revisited

This Is The Real Me

Dear Doper,

I just want you to know that every time I watch a race I fake cheering for you.  My cowbell is battery operated.  My screams are a smart phone app.  My camera doesn't have a memory card.  You thought when you raced up that mountain that I was on the sidelines pouring my guts out for you.  Turns out I wear a football helmet with deer antlers and hang out on mountain passes all the time.  It was all a sham.  

Remember when you saw me running with my Belgian flag and stabbing my devil’s pitch fork into the sky?  You thought you witnessed my pure emotion, elation, joy, anger, and sympathy.  But, that wasn't true.  I save my woo-hoos and tears for things I truly care about.  

Did you really think that when I shouted at my big screen, spilled my Mountain Dew on the carpet, and scared the cats by jumping on the cushions that I was truly cheering for you?  I was totally bluffing when the attacks unfolded.  I can’t believe you fell for the old pound the sofa and hide my face behind my fingers trick.  

When cases of doping in cycling arise, I wish that was true.  However, every time I watch a race, I show my true feelings and emotions for the sport of cycling.  I cherish my autographs and photos.  I plan vacations around major races.  That's the true me.  Whether it’s bonking and losing 20 minutes to the leaders or kissing the podium girl on the cheek, I expect I’m seeing the true you. 

Sincerely,

Joe Bellante

(Joe Note: This is the 3rd incarnation of this post.  When news of doping in the sport arise, I revisit it and question it's relevancy.  Since the first post in July of 2007, my feelings haven't changed.)

Quit Making Fun of my #LobsterClaw Mittens

As Big As A Cat and Just as Warm

(Joe Biker Note: I'm out shopping for holiday gifts.  Until I find something you'll really like, please enjoy this updated little morsel and possible gift idea from the archives.  Our Cyclocross Calendar sponsor Pearl Izumi has some great Lobster Claws mitts, check 'em out here.)


They’ve been called Camel Toe Mitts, Dinosaur Paws, and, (using my Scooby Doo pronunciation) Robster Craws.  They’re nearly the size of a small housecat, 3 times the size of the gloves you wear in summer and, I-tunes be damned, crafted when the grunge of Pearl Jam and Nirvana first hit the radio.  They’re my circa mid 1990’s Performance brand Purple anodized parts-matching Lobster Claw cycling mittens.  Using the term as loosely as possible, this past weekend on the regular Cincinnati Saturday morning club ride, I got tons of "compliments" on them, such as, "What the F&*% are on your hands?"

Gloves? I Say, "Hand Blanket!"

For booger freezing cold weather riding, there is no better glove.  These are the best winter mitts EVER!  Don’t even try to compare.  I’ve ridden through Ohio & Wisconsin winters in these with wind chills that’d make your teeff loosen and fall out.  Sure Pearl Izumi's may be more fashionable, but nothing makes your group ride buddies say, "oh jeez, who brought the Fred to the ride" like a wave with a purple dinosaur paw.  There's probably a fetish website dedicated to the love of Lobster Claws.  If not, I'm starting one.  Sadly "HotLobster.com" is already taken.  Fortunately for your cycling buddies, they don't make 'em like this anymore.  Like dinosaurs, a dying breed nearing extinction. 

They’re fatter than Wendy William’s twin sisters, and therefore lack a bit in dexterity.  However, if you install an Idiot Strap to your jacket, you can pull them off mid-ride and easily reach bare handed into your jersey pocket.  You hand will smoke with steam when your bare hand hits the cold air.

Id-ee-ott Strap: (noun) A buckled or sewn strap, commonly found in Wisconsin, Minnesota, Michigan and North Dakota that mommy uses to physically tie your mittens to your jacket, so you don’t loose your gloves in the freezing cold like a 3 year old idiot.

Expedition Quality

They’re as thick as boxing glove; the top surface is a pillow of warm filler impenetrable to any wind.  Pull ‘em on and you immediately feel like the heavyweight champion of the world.  There’s not just a terry cloth snot wiper on the thumb, there’s an entire beach towel which makes up 2/3 of the top surface area.  Not only can you wipe snot, in case of a wreck you could clot a gaping wound with the left hand mitt and use the right in case you need to take care of “business” at the same time.

15 years and Still Steaming Hot

I should’ve got out the tape measure, but I’m certain you can see from the photos that they practically go up to your elbows.  So, I exaggerate.  There’s enough room inside to stick both hands in one, or easily pull them over the lower arms of your thickest winter jacket.  You could probably wear them as slippers or an insert for your Crocs. 

Dinosaur Track or Mitten Print?

Most people call them Lobster Claws, but a Lobster claw this big would fetch a world-record market price at the best steakhouse.  I prefer Dinosaur Paws, because that’s what the tracks look like when you fan out the 3-fingers and make tracks at the MTB trail head to freak out other Wisconsin trail users.  “Hey dere honey, we bedder not hike here.  Looks like dere’s a ferocious dinosaur at this trail.”

Camel Toe Mitts, Dino Paws...My 1995 Robster Craws

They’ve been called Camel Toe Mitts, Dinosaur Paws, and, (using my Scooby Doo pronunciation) Robster Craws.  They’re nearly the size of a small housecat, 3 times the size of the gloves you wear in summer and, I-tunes be damned, crafted when the grunge of Pearl Jam and Nirvana first hit the radio.  They’re my circa mid 1990’s Performance brand Purple anodized parts-matching Lobster Claw cycling mittens.  They’re way more fly than a G-6.

Gloves? I Say, "Hand Blanket!"

For booger freezing cold weather riding, there is no better glove.  These are the best winter mitts EVER!  Don’t even try to compare.  I’ve ridden through Ohio & Wisconsin winters in these with wind chills that’d make your teeff loosen and fall out.  Pearl Izumi and Endura may be more fashionable, but ten bucks says Lady Gaga is wearing these purple wonders in her next video.  There's probably a fetish website dedicated to the love of Performance Lobster Claws.  (If not, I'm starting one.)  There is no better winter cycling mitt, and never will be, unless neon anodized colors and helmet covers come back in vogue.  Sadly, Performance doesn’t even make ‘em like this anymore.  Like dinosaurs, a dying breed nearing extinction. 

They’re fatter than Wendy William’s twin sisters, and therefore lack a bit in dexterity.  However, if you install an Idiot Strap to your jacket, you can pull them off mid-ride and easily reach bare handed into your jersey pocket.  You hand will smoke with steam when your bare hand hits the cold air.

Id-ee-ott Strap: (noun) A buckled or sewn strap, commonly found in Wisconsin, Minnesota, Michigan and North Dakota that mommy uses to physically tie your mittens to your jacket, so you don’t loose your gloves in the freezing cold like a 3 year old idiot.

Expedition Quality

They’re as thick as boxing glove; the top surface is a pillow of warm filler impenetrable to any wind.  Pull ‘em on and you immediately feel like the heavyweight champion of the world.  There’s not just a terry cloth snot wiper on the thumb, there’s an entire beach towel which makes up 2/3 of the top surface area.  Not only can you wipe snot, in case of a wreck you could clot a gaping wound with the left hand mitt and use the right in case you need to take care of “business” at the same time.

15 years and Still Steaming Hot

I should’ve got out the tape measure, but I’m certain you can see from the photos that they practically go up to your elbows.  So, I exaggerate.  There’s enough room inside to stick both hands in one, or easily pull them over the lower arms of your thickest winter jacket.  You could probably wear them as slippers or an insert for your Crocs. 

Dinosaur Track or Mitten Print?

Most people call them Lobster Claws, but a Lobster claw this big would fetch a world-record market price at the best steakhouse.  I prefer Dinosaur Paws, because that’s what the tracks look like when you fan out the 3-fingers and make tracks at the MTB trail head to freak out other Wisconsin trail users.  “Hey dere honey, we bedder not hike here.  Looks like dere’s a ferocious dinosaur at this trail.”

Gift Cards b/c I Love You, But Not That Much

You want to know how I know she loves me?  My mom called and inquired whether a Challenge Griffo cyclocross tire should be size 700x34 or 700c x 34mm.  She listened to my explanation of what the “c” and “mm” meant in relation to the dimensions of the tire.  Even if faned, she seemed interested.   She’s a retired nurse.  Having administered plenty of medication, she’s no stranger to the metric system and cubic centimeters.  Even though it may’ve killed the Christmas Day surprise, I almost appreciate her effort more that the gift itself.  Obviously mom loves me way more than people she purchased gift cards for.  I’m real present worthy and they’re just gift card relatives. 

Giving a gift card is like saying I’m not interested in your life enough to get you the dorky thing you really want.  That’s why I’d rather get a real gift than a gift card.  Gift cards are like saying TMI.  I know you’re into bikes, but that’s where I’m drawing the line.  Here’s a gift card to Performance.  You do the work.

There is an exception.  The only time I like getting a bike gift card, is when it opens a little window to my life, like getting a gift certificate to my local bike shop, BioWheels, the shop I race for.  They have Bio-bucks.  Like getting a Challenge Griffo tubular, a Bio-Buck certificate from my mom says, “I know you race for BioWheels.  I know you prefer to have your sponsor’s parts on your bike.  I called and talked to Mitch the owner.  He’s a nice guy and seems like a good friend of yours.”  It's a gift with a story.  That’s a real present.  It shows interest in my life.

Real presents bring people together.  Last year my mom asked for a specific kind of water color painting paper.  I went to 2 different art stores.  I talked to the bearded hippie clerk.  Thanks to her, I now know that a block of 200 pound water color paper does not weigh more than me.  I got a taste of my mom’s hobby and she got a taste of mine.  Now, I lean in a little more when she tells me about the challenges of her painting class.  I can see how the paper and paint work together when she shows me a painting of downtown Cedarburg, Wisconsin.  In turn, at age 65, she learned a little bit about cyclocross.

The other great thing about getting a cyclocross tire for Christmas is that I can oogle it on the couch.  Try that with a gift card.  I’ll show the tire off to my science nerdy 3^rd grade nephew and bore the little guy with a grand story of how fast I can ride my bike in mud.  Maybe I’ll show him a picture of me racing from my phone.  I’ll show him how the big knobbies can grab and hang on to a surface.  I'll tell him it was hand made in Belgium.  Maybe I'll point it out on a map.  I'll ask him to go ahead and touch the soft cotton sidewall, roll it across the couch cushions and explain how the cotton bends to follow the contour of the cushions.  He’ll be thrilled…for at least 3 minutes, a priceless 3 minutes of closeness with family.

MC SpandX Performance Bike Video