By Kristin Sanders

Editor’s note: Kristin Sanders is a national cycling champ based in West Palm Beach.

For me, each mile on my bike is critical. Each mile serves a purpose. Each mile has a specific objective. And today, each mile comes with quite a view because today I’m riding from West Palm Beach to Commercial Boulevard in Fort Lauderdale and back. I’ll spend five hours in the saddle doing what many would call a slow fat-burning ride. That, too, may happen but I am building the foundation for my 2008 racing season. I am a stage racer, specializing in climbing and time-trialing; the longer and harder the race, the more days we race, the better my result. Frustration sets in when the going doesn’t get tough, which is why I must have a coach. Someone has to be in charge of my enthusiasm and that someone is my husband, Todd, the perfect training partner.

Todd and I roll out of our driveway and onto Cumberland Boulevard as the sun pushes hard against the night sky. We always start early, usually at 6:30 a.m., and zip through our neighborhood, over to Village Boulevard and onto eastbound Palm Beach Lakes Boulevard. This is a serious ride with an important objective: I strive to be a world-class cyclist and am currently among the best Americans.

We zigzag through more neighborhoods, talking bike racing as I frequently look at my cycling computer, and eventually cross the Intracoastal Waterway to the exclusive island of Palm Beach. Here we reach A1a and pass mansion after mansion, including Donald Trump’s Mar-a-Lago.

The wind is out of the southwest and as we pass the public golf course on the south end of the island it becomes quite evident. I am in front of Todd, taking the full brunt of the wind resistance. In Florida we do not have mountains where I can practice climbing so we utilize the wind as a similar resistance force. Now I am climbing, even if it’s only in my own mind, and I climb on south, through Manalapan. I climb until the road curves back toward to the beach where I’m protected from the southwest force by more mansions.

• • •

We’re close to Boynton Beach now and pass what Todd and I call the Oprah Winfrey-Michael Jackson House. It’s an elaborate and imposing structure on the east side of the road. It’s so fancy it could only possibly be the home of someone really big and famous. Another landmark we pass is the Bikini Sale at Briny Breezes (at least that’s what we call it). For years, the surf shop there had a sign that said “Bikini Sale,” and from our house to this sign and back is a three-hour ride. I do the Bikini Sale ride at least once a week.

All too quickly the town of Briny Breezes is behind us but I do look forward to Delray Beach; we should be there in about 10 minutes.

Up until this point Todd and I have been spoiled by brand-new asphalt and bike lanes and at Delray Beach there will be more… But not yet. Fortunately, rough and bumpy roads happen to be some of my favorite and I unconsciously pick up the tempo and coyly inform Todd that we’re now riding Paris-Roubaix, cobble sector number one. He reminds me to cool it. Staying focused on today’s objective is not only for my physical training but also I am training my mind. To refine my ability to stay focused through hours of hard racing is equally, if not more, valuable.

Okay, it was fun while it lasted but I quickly get myself back on track. I double-check my wattage and heart-rate readings to make sure I’m not riding too hard as we cross Atlantic Boulevard and pass the world-famous Boston’s On The Beach. It’s about 8:15 and things are heating up so I peal off my arm warmers and stuff them in my road pocket while riding.

Our next checkpoint is Spanish River Park in Boca Raton and the miles before it are littered with beautiful homes. I like this stretch; we’re riding among lots of cyclists along another perfectly paved bike lane.

Beyond Spanish River we cross the Intracoastal again at the Boca Raton Resort and what a view! The vastness of Florida’s bluer-than-blue ocean always impresses me and reminds me that most of my competitors are freezing up north. How fortunate I am to be training on A1A.

We coast for the first time today down the south side of the bridge and look forward to Hillsboro. The quaint surf-town vibe of Hillsboro gets me every time; I think I can smell the suntan lotion as we roll through and out the dogleg. The park here reminds me of my triathlon days as I recall it being the site of an annual swim-bike-run event.

• • •

Off in the distance I can see the familiar high-rise condos at the north end of Fort Lauderdale. As the miles click by, the condo buildings seem to grow taller and taller.

I know we’re nearing our turnaround and I can feel my effort beginning to increase. Again, Todd checks in on the vitals of my heart-rate and wattage output and reels me in. My excitement is hard to contain. We’re nearing what used to be one of my favorite landmarks: The Fruit Stand. In 2003, when I began my professional cycling career, I rode this route for the first time with Todd and my friend Pam. Reaching The Fruit Stand was like finding an oasis among the beaches and buildings. It offered not only a clean ladies room and cold beverages but samples of Florida’s finest fresh citrus on ice.

Our new turnaround is a convenience store just past Commercial Boulevard where we stop for what my husband calls “a Coke and a cake.” I grab a cold beverage and wash down a Powergel.

As quickly as we arrive, we’re off again… heading right back the way we came… incognito, mixed among the beach cruisers and recreational riders. The Tour of the Boulevards: Cumberland, Village, Palm Beach Lakes, Boynton Beach, Atlantic, Hillsboro and Commercial boulevards. Down and back, five hours, I see them all twice. I look forward to every single cyclist I pass; I easily lose myself while cranking out the miles and I wonder if everyone I see feels the same euphoria.

I hope so.