The death of a cyclist in the Giro d'Italia is a grim reminder that racing has its risks – but also just how rare fatalities are

Belgian spinter Wouter Weylandt celebrating on the podium of the fourth and last stage of the Franco-Belge cycling race, on 3 October 2010. Weylandt died from injuries sustained in a crash in the Giro d'Italia on 9 May 2011. Photograph: AFP/Getty Images/Kurt Desplenter

My colleague William Fotheringham reports that "the Giro d'Italia is in shock" following the death of Belgian pro cyclist Wouter Weylandt during stage 3 of the three-week race, on Monday 9 May. Shock, certainly, and sorrow. As William noted, British sprinter Mark Cavendish tweeted: "Things like this shouldn't happen. Absolutely sick to the stomach. My thoughts are with his family. RIP Wouter Weylandt."

Weylandt, reportedly, fell heavily on the fast descent of the Passo del Bocco, sustaining severe head injuries. Despite the race's emergency services arriving quickly, paramedics were unable to resuscitate the rider. He died, apparently without regaining consciousness.

This grim event was sadly reminiscent of the death of Italian rider Fabio Casartelli, a teammate of Lance Armstrong, in the 1995 Tour de France. He fell on the descent of the Col du Portet d'Aspet, suffering a massive skull fracture. Casartelli was riding in the days before helmets became compulsory, and there was some debate in the aftermath about whether a helmet would have saved him. Weylandt's death confirms the fact that there are, very occasionally, crashes of such devastating impact that even helmets make no difference.

As with any racing sport, there are always risks. The proposition of sprinting shoulder-to-shoulder amid a twitching, writhing pack of riders at speeds in excess of 60kph – as Cavendish does daily – on skinny tyres and sometimes wet roads is not one for the fainthearted. On the descents from the high mountains, riders can even push past 100kph, with the parapet flashing by and a precipice looming below. Can there be a professional cyclist who has not found himself jolting awake at night, heart racing, thinking about the possible consequences of a front wheel blowout at the wrong moment? What is astonishing – and, perhaps, necessary to remember on these rare days of awful exception – is that there are so few fatalities in cycle racing.

It is a sport with inherent risks. The odds of a high-speed crash in the closing kilometres of the flat, "sprinters' stages" are probably higher than even. Every Tour and Giro sees its share of retirements with fractured clavicles, wrists and elbows, and occasionally femurs and hips. "Road rash" is as occupational a hazard as sunburn. All professional cyclists understand that, whatever their results, they're ahead if they've ridden through a full season without a bad crash and a broken bone. They are extraordinarily skilled at staying out of trouble, but they are also paid to take risks that put them in danger. As those Giro riders tonight mourn Weylandt, it is only human for part of that "sick" feeling Cavendish describes to be because, in a private and unspoken way, they will also be thinking how easily Weylandt's fate could have been any of theirs.

Nothing should minimise the death of a young man, so talented and with so much of promise ahead of him, nor what his loss means to his family, friends and teammates, but it may help us deal with the shocking fact of his death by putting it in some perspective. Weylandt is only the fourth rider to die in the Giro d'Italia; while Casartelli was the second fatality of the Tour. This should remind us, on this horrible day, that such tragic events are very, very rare: both of these – cycling's two premier stage races – have more than a century of history behind them. Compared with motor-racing, even horse-racing, professional cycling has a remarkable record of safety.

On Wednesday, there will be a minute's silence at the start; some riders will wear black armbands. And then the peloton will race again. Wouter Weylandt would not have expected or wanted anything else.