The day before the 24-hour race in Portugal, my codrivers and I put the car on pole in class, everything was falling into place. But the morning of the race told a different story. I woke up with a 103.5°F fever and had completely lost my voice. I was asked to the track early to run the warmup session and shake down the car after a long night of prep by the crew. It was a vital run to confirm everything was race ready. The moment I got in the car, I could feel the heat compounding the toll the fever was taking. After the session, I pulled our crew chief aside and told him I could handle one double stint, but I wasn’t sure how much more I could give until the cooler night hours. Anyone who knows me knows I’ve never been the type to ask for reduced seat time, but with ambient temps above 100°F and cockpit temperatures pushing 155–170°F, it was a real concern. He suggested I conserve energy for the night, and I agreed. Still, I made it to the fan walk and did a short interview before he...