They outnumber you racer weenies about 100:1. And there's nothing you can do about it. Somewhere, at any given moment, some Fred is keeling over at an intersection, unable to free himself from the bonds of his clipless pedals.
Read it and weep, but better yet, ignore it, for the full realization of this reality is rather staggering in its humanity.
Sometimes, late at night, I lie awake wondering what it would be like to watch the world recede in a helmet mirror. But I will never really know.