On Tuesday of this week, less than 4 days before his big race, Tad caught a bug. I tested him for Covid–negative. I checked his throat for strep–negative. So the best we can figure, he had come down with a cold-type virus. Even tonight, he’s coughing and sniffling. Nonetheless, he has just set off on the longest and, what promises to be, the hardest run of his life. As his crew chief, I admire his determination to compete. As his mother, I fear for his health. I guarantee you that he will read this post in a day or two and claim that I’ve exaggerated the situation, but I promise you I have not. Tad, my boy, you are sick. I pray that your body will be strong and that your mind will be smart. No ultramarathon belt buckle is worth wrecking your health.