A crash like this shatters your dreams, you do everything you can to prepare and then it can disappear in a split second – Matej Mohorič's Tour de France diary

My rest day started on Sunday, as I turned onto the final climb of the day up Plateau de Solaison. The racing on stage 15 of the Tour de France was fast and furious; the speed was incredible, exactly what you’d expect from the best riders in the world battling it out. There was a huge fight to get into the breakaway, and I was also interested because our strategy was to have a rider up the road to get over the steep climb after 130 kilometres and then help Lenny [Martinez] on the approach to the final climb.

I was having a good day and managed to sneak into the breakaway. There weren’t many riders left up ahead by the time the yellow jersey group caught me. Visma-Lease a Bike had set a really high pace on the steep climb, keeping the breakaway within reach to give Jonas [Vingegaard] a chance to fight for the stage. I had just made my way back to the group after collecting fresh bottles and ice from the team car when I saw the chaos at a roundabout. Jonas, Isaac [Del Toro] and a few other riders were on the ground, and it didn’t look good.

These things can happen. We race for 3,500 kilometres, always pushing the limits on roads designed to regulate traffic, not to serve as race tracks. I’d say we’re actually doing pretty well when you consider how few incidents there are at the speeds we travel through these villages. Traffic furniture is designed for vehicles moving at 30 to 50 km/h, not for bike riders travelling at over 60 km/h, riding centimetres apart, sitting in the slipstream with almost no visibility, especially when the road is slightly downhill.

A crash like this shatters your dreams. You do everything you can to prepare. You spend weeks and months away from your family, training and racing while living out of a suitcase, weighing every bite of food and patiently following all the numbers in training, trying to enjoy the process along the way. Then, just when the moment comes to make it all count, it can disappear in a split second because of a momentary lapse in concentration or one small mistake. Sometimes it isn’t even your mistake, and maybe then it’s a little easier because you can blame destiny. I always find it hardest when you make the mistake yourself, and you’re left wondering how you could have avoided it. Cycling is cruel, just as life can sometimes be cruel. But luckily, it’s only cycling. It’s something we’re deeply passionate about, and moments like this hurt, but they probably won’t top the list of the worst things that can happen to you in life.

After the crash, there was a moment of confusion in the group. Nobody really knew what to do. Everyone wanted to wait for Jonas to get back on, but a few moments later we received confirmation on the radio that he wasn’t getting back on the bike. Tom [Pidcock] was still up the road, fighting for his GC position alongside Lenny, so we had to get back to work and keep the gap under control.

A few kilometres later, we reached the bottom of the final climb and my job was done. I had plenty of time to finish within the time limit, so I could really enjoy the crowds. It’s always so good to see the fans, especially all the young families with children, everyone genuinely enjoying the Tour passing through their towns. Whenever I finish a bottle, I always try to hand it to a passionate kid by the roadside. I like to think that maybe, a few years from now, one of them will take my place in the peloton. It’s still a dream come true for me, and if I had the chance, I’d do it all over again.

A lie in, savouring food, and shaving my arms

We actually got to our hotel pretty early on Sunday evening, at around 8 p.m., which is unusual, especially on the night before a rest day. Our chefs prepared another fantastic dinner in the kitchen truck, and I was looking forward to getting to bed a little earlier than usual and, for once, not setting an alarm. I managed to fall asleep before 11pm and slept right through until around 9:30am.

This year I’m doing pretty well with my sleep. I can still fall asleep in under 40 minutes, and I only wake up once or twice during the night or early morning to go to the bathroom. My resting heart rate on Sunday was only eight beats higher than my lowest resting heart rate before the race started, and my HRV was still around 40ms. For comparison, I rarely get much above 100ms even when I’m completely fresh. So my body isn’t completely burned out yet, but a rest day will definitely do me good.

There’s also the added benefit of Tuesday’s time trial, which for me will almost be another rest day. I won’t need to push too hard to finish inside the time limit, and I’ll need every bit of energy I can save for Wednesday. I don’t think there’s much chance that stage 17 will be controlled. There are still plenty of teams without a stage win, and for many of us this could be our only real opportunity to fight for one. It’s going to be an absolute battlefield, and I’m really looking forward to it.

But first, I’m making the most of the relaxed rest day atmosphere. We’ll head out for an easy coffee ride, take our time over meals and actually savour the food instead of simply cramming in the calories and carbs for fuel. I’ll make sure there’s enough time in the afternoon for a proper nap. There should even be time to shave my legs, and I might shave my arms for a change too, so that I have absolutely no regrets if it somehow comes down to the width of a tyre in a sprint on Wednesday. It’s probably very unlikely, but it’s happened to me before. I’d rather be 101% ready and know, with a clear conscience, that I’ve done absolutely everything in my power to be the best I can be.