Last week, I stood at the Embassy of Japan in Washington, D.C. talking to researchers about something most of them were never really trained to do: Raise money. That sounds strange when you say it out loud. We spend years teaching researchers how to understand disease, design studies, analyze data, publish papers, and defend their science. Then, increasingly, we turn around and say:

We have gotten very comfortable asking one question about almost everything: What is the return on investment? In business, that is usually a reasonable question. In medical research, it can become a limiting one. Some of the most important scientific work does not begin with a product, a treatment, or a clear path to revenue. It begins with a question about how something works, why a biological process behaves the way it does, or what researchers still do not understa

Virginia International Raceway started with a lot of promise. Both cars were fast in practice, and the team seemed to be getting the setups where they needed to be. The No. 46 qualified P5. The No. 64 qualified P28 overall and P2 in Bronze. We had two good cars and two good opportunities. Then racing happened.

When people think about philanthropy, they often think about the moment a grant is awarded. The announcement is made. The funding is secured. Photos are taken. Everyone celebrates. Then what? That question doesn't get nearly enough attention. In biomedical research, a grant is rarely the finish line. More often, it's the starting point. Discoveries don't happen on a predictable schedule, and meaningful scientific progress almost never fits neatly into a two- or three-ye

Heading into Canadian Tire Motorsport Park (CTMP), we knew we had work to do. The setup wasn't exactly where we wanted it to be when the weekend began, but by qualifying we felt like we had made meaningful progress, particularly with the No. 46 Ford Mustang. The No. 64, however, was facing a very different challenge after losing nearly an entire practice session to mechanical issues.

When people think about medical breakthroughs, they often think about the discovery itself. A new therapy. A promising clinical trial. A scientific advancement that changes the way we understand disease. What often gets overlooked is where those breakthroughs begin. They usually start with people. Specifically, researchers willing to spend years asking difficult questions, testing ideas, and pursuing answers that may not come easily.

For all the discussion around healthcare reform in the United States, one issue continues to sit at the center of the problem: We still spend far more treating disease than preventing it.

When people talk about the FDA approval process, the conversation usually splits in two directions. One side argues it takes too long. The other argues it exists for a reason. Both are right. The challenge isn’t choosing between speed and safety. It’s understanding that the FDA approval process is designed to manage risk in a system where the consequences of getting it wrong are significant. That makes the balance more complicated than most headlines suggest.

When people hear about a cancer research breakthrough, the story often sounds simple. A discovery is announced. A new therapy shows promise. A headline declares progress. But what most people don’t see behind cancer research breakthroughs is the long, demanding path that leads to that moment. Scientific progress rarely arrives in a single dramatic leap. It comes through years of incremental work, careful experimentation, and persistence from researchers who are trying to a

For more than a decade, policymakers have promoted value-based care as the future of American healthcare. Pay for outcomes. Reward quality over volume.Lower costs while improving patient care. On paper, it makes sense. In theory, it aligns incentives. In practice? The results are more complicated. If we’re serious about healthcare reform, we need to ask a straightforward question: Is value-based care actually delivering measurable results, or are we just relabeling the

But what they don’t see is the grind behind the scenes. The years of effort, the research that doesn’t get funded, and the scientists struggling to keep momentum without institutional support.

Things started off looking strong for the Team TGM lineup at Daytona. The #46 qualified P4, and the #64 rolled off from P33. From the outset, both cars showed they were ready to compete.

Most people think of philanthropy as charity. I think of it as an investment, with an expected return measured in discoveries, not dollars. At the JKTG Foundation, we don’t fund cancer research the traditional way. We don’t issue massive RFPs or wait for consensus to form. We move quickly, prioritize bold thinkers, and stay close to the science. Why? Because the diseases we’re up against, like breast cancer, won’t wait.

There’s a myth in leadership that experience automatically makes you better. But I’ve learned, on the racetrack, in health policy, and in research funding, that experience without adaptability is just a heavier anchor. The world changes. Fast. And if you’re clinging to “what used to work,” you’re not leading. You’re coasting.

That’s what happened with a recent study the JKTG Foundation supported, one that explored how iron-based nanoparticles could help detect and treat tumors more safely. This wasn’t hype. It was smart, specific science. And it’s the kind of work we’re proud to back.

You don’t usually associate spreadsheets with survival rates. But that’s exactly the connection Dr. Paul Macklin is exploring in our latest Driving Research episode.

There’s a common trap leaders fall into: They assume because they’ve seen something before, they know exactly how to handle it now. I’ve seen this play out in racing. I’ve seen it in healthcare policy meetings. I’ve seen it in boardrooms. And I’ve learned that past experience can mislead you if you treat it like gospel.

This weekend marked the final race of our season: Road Atlanta. And I’ll be honest… We knew all we had to do was start the race to win the Bronze Cup Championship. But that’s never been how we operate. We came to compete.

The IMSA Michelin Pilot Challenge rolled into Indianapolis Motor Speedway this past weekend for the 2025 Battle on the Bricks, and Team TGM showed up ready to compete!