After the river through Main Street quieted down some, the wind picked up something vicious here in San Luis. High desert (I think that's what this region is characteristic of) has some crazy weather patterns, I can say with confidence having been here for now three Tours de San Luis. The entire peloton had a nervous energy at the start since the roads in the city are a touch muddy/gritty/sandy, are in a state of disrepair, and of course are still wet after the biblical rainstorm this morning. Seriously, a trailer affiliated with the race was picked up and washed down the road a few dozen yards. Whoa.Alas, bike racing waits for no one and after some Salsa dancing and dignitaries smiling, the flag dropped and we rolled out of town in an aggressively speedy fashion and soon hit the highway. Perhaps you've seen the map of the stage. We basically went 120km in one direction with a noteworthy crosswind, then we did a little 3km criterium lap through a town (complete with cones in the middle of the road to separate lanes -- the unequivocally most dangerous way to separate lanes in a bike race), whereupon we re-entered the main highway from whence we just came and were rewarded with a ripping cross-tailwind back for 40km, covered in about 45 minutes. Then a left turn where we encounter a dozen roundabouts and perpetually deteriorating roads to the finish, which for some reason resembled a sandbox given the amazing amount of sand on the road. Visibility was approaching nil towards the end as I felt like I was racing into a dust storm. Ferserious.All things normal with the standard chaotic scrum of the first race of the year. Correction, first for us European based cyclists, while South Americans are boasting mid-summer fitness. Plus teams of six always make for much more animated racing while tactics go out the window. So as for the race itself, a few crashes and 170km later, I found myself behind a Chilean rider I thought was just moving up the left side of the peloton. But then he put in a vigorous attack and since I was still in his draft, I decided to go along for the ride. We rotated a few times and immediately got a nice separation from the hard charging field, but then I saw he was cooked, so rather than slowly get caught together, I increased the wattitude, dropped him, and forged on alone. It's hard to say I got much of a draft from him. I'm nearly 6'3" and I think he hovers around five foot two.This unheralded attack wasn't meant to be, but it was fantastic to get racing again! I mean RACING again. Like, attack to fire up a race; to see what you're capable of; to see who's paying attention and why. Look, I loved winning dozens of races with Peter over the years but that was very scripted racing. To be part of this incredibly young Cannondale Garmin team is exactly the fire under my butt that I need to get back that zest for racing. Yes, I just said zest for racing. And yes I'm friggin' pumped!So we finished safely but without any results of which to speak.* That said, for the very first time racing together, we worked great as a unit throughout the day, ushering each other around, full of communication and thoughtful racing.Stage two is a mountaintop finish tomorrow. We have some stellar early season fitness on this squad. Let's see what we can do!Oh, and there's this. This should be like the sweet ice cream at the end of your dessert; the sweet reward for reading this long. See, apparently I have friends in the right places. Manual for Speed brought us coffee. Thanks guys, thanks Stumptown!*Considering there were no fewer than six crashes in the final 50km, we are more than happy to be safe and intact.Sent from iPhone 7s