Jake’s Race: Mind over Body

04/28/2026

Is this seriously the amount of privilege I’m at? A recap of my last twelve weeks:

I failed. I’m disappointed, slightly angry, slightly relieved, slightly happy. All while I sit dictating to my pocket box words on a screen with a roof over my head. The truth is, I’m not even disappointed in anybody or anything. I do fear though that I let down my younger self. Let me explain.

To start, let’s rewind about twelve weeks ago. I learned of and decided to run the Germanfest 5k. After all, “How hard can it be?”. I had gotten quite close to my end-of-year 2025 goal of running a 5K in 20 minutes or less when I got an (unofficial) 20:55 as my PR on December 22. But I didn’t break it and this gave me a good opportunity to do so. Just one minute detail: I had no idea how to do it… just that I wanted to. Being shy on information, I sought the internet (incredibly smart, I know). By inputting my training details and times, it assured me that it was most definitely possible to achieve my desired goal. It gave me all of the tempos, fartleks, strides, and intervals for my training… with just one problem: like you are presently faced with, I had no clue what any of that meant. It also had me training six out of seven days a week (more on that in a bit). But I had a plan. Did I execute it?

Well, we got a snowstorm. A family member had a freak injury on the ice and I was at the hospital for many days visiting, consoling, and assisting in the planning of their road to recovery. Which brings me to two weeks later, thus about ten weeks ago: I actually started executing. The first week was hell. Borderline self-torture. Only nine more left. Second and third weeks were slightly shaky but hey, I didn’t die. I did though slow down. That found me proverbially hitting the e-stop when running a subjectively normal pace found me 2:00/mi slower than the pace I had even run the marathon at. It also found me hallucinogenic. Between those two, I knew something had to change. My body was giving me emergency alerts, yet I had no clue what caused them nor what they meant. So I slowed down the training load since fatigue had clearly become chronic. I also started prioritizing rest and sleep better than I had done. Averaging less than six hours of sleep a night had found me there gutless with no fuel in my tank. So I started slowing down and smelling the rosebuds: I started training less days per week.

Six weeks after that and thus four weeks ago: I mostly stopped. Though that’s not really the right word - more like let myself go. Work got busy… like really busy. My life got extremely hectic with a multitude of doctor’s appointments and meetings that were years in the making. I did not prioritize the training. Like Hemmingway said of bankruptcy, so I did with phasing out my training days: “slowly, then all at once”. Seeing this happen but being lazy, busy, or whatever I was thinking, I thought I would try a different and far easier tactic: see if prioritizing sleep got me anywhere. And by sleep I mean like realllly good sleep. Though quite enjoyable, and great for the chronic stress-mess that is Jacob’s life, I think I know the result (or lack thereof) of my evenings spent with my head on a pillow and not feet on the road…

During those four weeks I also focused on two other tasks: reading and being sick… like really sick. A day or two of fever and multiple 20 hour days of horrible sleep left me lifeless. But the reading was soothing to the soul. Four volumes of comedial editorial compilations on farming and one book on endurance athlete nutrition reminded me the transfiguration of the mind that written text brings to one’s thoughts. For mere moments you are not anyone, but rather a character in the story of someone else’s words… at least until you put the book down. But cheeky as it sounds, the distractions brought comfort to me and depth to my otherwise mostly-shallow thoughts. Alas I finished the writings though.

Then it was time to put on my unusually thick and very overpriced running shoes. 22:41 was the time. So am I disappointed at the results? Yes.

But do results need to be the only objective? Would I trade off good race results for deeper learning of the subject or of character development? Can you outwork inadequate rest? Is running fast even important? Who’s to say what would be subjectively right or wrong in those situations? Best that I can come up with, that’s the key word: subjective… i.e. me. Shy of sovereign intervention, I’m the one responsible for deciding what’s important on my journey, I’m the one responsible for my training, and I’m the one who prioritizes each sect of my schedule. I’m also the one to blame when failure of ex*****on renders my dreams as delusions.

So call me delusional: I thought it would be easy. I thought I could cheat the system and just be great. I thought I wouldn’t have to be bothered by the compounding progress that is training intervals. So I failed. But hey, I also set a benchmark. This was a lesson. And I’ve never learned or grown quite as much as when I’ve failed. Using this knowledge, I shall recalibrate my goals and their meaning to me. Maybe I still want a fast time? Maybe I’ll lay that aside momentarily and try a different medium of training? Maybe I focus on something not physical? I’m not sure what the future holds. Though I’m unsure why, I know myself well enough to know that my greatest fear is stagnation. So with whatever I do, I’m confident I will find something to move forward with.

So again: privilege. Complaining of slower-than-desired legs while subconsciously remembering what it was like when told I had only a few hours left to live. Talk about cognitive dissonance…

People have called me inspirational, yet all I know is that I’m just me. But when I look in the mirror, I don’t even see me: I see a teenage boy who was scared for life itself and not knowing what was coming next. So I owe it to him to finish the story and to keep moving forward. 🧠≠💪

03/16/2026

Where do I begin: I’ve learned a lot over the last two weeks of training. That’s a polite way of saying I got a lot of stuff really wrong. At times, I fought with myself and my body to achieve success. Examples of failure include fatigue-induced psychosis, three-hour night’s sleep, an unintentionally high heart rate, and aching deteriorating joints among others.

The largest learning lesson is a phenomenon that I have long known, but really thought I could push through and out-train: “you can’t out-train inadequate rest”. I learned this when I had an evening run where my heart rate was average for the pace I was planning on (145bpm at a 9:30min/mile pace), YET I was doing 11:00min/miles. I never went that slow of a mile in my running life. Concurrently while that was happening, I noticed I had no willpower to go any faster, and at the end of the run I had the feeling of foreboding. This was a major wake-up call to reassess and restructure where my trajectory was heading - stress management is apparently a real thing…

Other notable events are that I learned that the shoes that I previously was using - “Cleatwood Mac”, as I call them - were well beyond wore out. I trained vigorously in the last two weeks with my new shoes (“Billy Sole’s”) and never did my feet fell anything more than slightly sore, unlike the previous pair. So at least that part I did get right.

I noticed that in the 6-24 hours after a speed session, my pelvis and femur (the joints on their way out) were quite sore to the point of barely being able to use them. A quick change in my running wardrobe seems to have fixed that.

As far as sleep goes, I have accepted the reality of not following the training plan to a T, but to listen to my body and rest if it seems to be most beneficial. Anger and depression at the thought of a run are clear signs to take a day off, as that is exactly what I did on Thursday and Friday. Great sleep and low stress this weekend helped the weekend’s sessions tremendously.

While speaking on rest though, I noticed my heart rate stays somewhat low when doing my speedwork sessions. Generic medical advice says it should get up to 198bpm. I have gotten 181bpm to be the highest. Upon research, this, paired with my 36-40bpm rHR seems to allude that I have a very efficient heart. I suppose we’ll know by race day.

For as much running as I have done thus far, I still don’t know if I have gotten a

03/06/2026

And just like that, I got off work and gleefully hurried to McKinney to spend $216 for another pair of shoes. At that price, I think I need a sponsorship. Nonetheless this purchase enables me to keep me going for the next 400 miles of training. To put that scenario into perspective, every mile I run costs me $0.54 in shoe depreciation. This of course (pun intended!) excludes energy and electrolyte supplements that aid in my success.

In one year of health monitoring, I’ve spent 120 hours running 778 miles. I’ve used up two pairs of work boots and two pairs of running shoes to go 5,325,939 steps over the last year. This equates to using my legs for transportation across 2,767 miles in the last 365 days. Averaged out means I’ve walked or run 7.6 miles a day, every day, for the last year. I might not be famous, but I’m going places… literally!

Could you imagine what that life might be like if I didn’t recover from a paralysis-inducing traumatic brain injury resulting from chemotherapy treatment? How much different would life be? The thought that an individual might not recover from that sends chills down my spine just thinking about it.

When doctors and patients are faced with cancer diagnosis, the question becomes of how much more life is gained by enduring harsh and questionably-effective treatment? In my case, I think it paid off - I’ve lived (and loved) a lot more life.

Now it’s time to pay it forward in the post-treatment side of my life. Any suggestions for an epic event for my 2026? An epic run? A destination marathon? Collaborations with others? I’d sincerely love hearing any of your suggestions, or even share this if you think others might have ideas!

🧠≠💪

03/02/2026

Lessons learned: Week 2

Well an understatement is that this week didn’t go at all according to plan. Two nights were slept with less than 4 hours of sleep, and along with personal affairs that got in the way, it resulted in much of this week spent recovering my circadian rhythm and also not training.

So my thought was that surely I could catch up training on the weekend, right? About that…

Let me paint for you the scene of Sunday’s epic failure: I ran 7.8 miles on Saturday evening at a heck of a pace split up, but 4km total. For reference, I burn 120-ish calories/mile on light running. I ate 700 calories that evening.

Sunday I ran 7 miles at a heck of a pace for around 4km in one stretch. I ate 600 calories of oatmeal. I went to church then ate five eggs (350cal) before going to the gym for 1 hour of strength training (with a very sore pelvis). I ate two oranges (150cal) after the gym on Sunday evening before heading out with the plan of going 14 miles. At mile 2.5, I felt the world as I knew it spinning…

I “hit the wall”. I was confused, the room was spinning, my hip was hurting, I was stressed, I was confused, I was 2.5 miles from home, my hip was killing me, and I was also confused. I was very confused why I had no more energy. After pondering, I did math: 7.8mi+7 mi+2.5mi=17.3 miles. Calories burned for 17.3 miles added up with my bodily maintenance calories meant in the 24 hours of training from Saturday’s hard run to Sunday evening’s light run, I was at a caloric deficit of 3,326 calories.

That’s not shocking at all that I was out of energy then. Glycogen stores are estimated to hold 2,000 calories for most people.

Scratch that, it is shocking… of why I lasted so long! Who knew that I couldn’t do the training adaptations planned for the weekend? Actually with a calculator and foresight, anyone could have. Nonetheless, I wasn’t even thinking this would be a possibility of happening…

I should have planned more time, as this is the second week I have failed in one regard or another. So I could call it a failure and be bummed. Or I can learn from it. Enough mistakes and like Edison, I will eventually get it right. So in that aspect, I love failure: it teaches me something new to apply towards future success.

02/23/2026

Well that’s a wrap on Week 1. My big takeaway is that I’m not as fast as my training plan thinks I am: I should be capable of doing 6:50min/miles, yet on Saturday when doing a tempo (sustained hard) session, I could only do 7:30’s at best. This tells me I’ve lost some fitness since the marathon, or never even had it.

Other notes are:

- There are lots of variables (such as skinning my knee on some rebar, cold weather, etc.).
- I’m still learning the running lingo, and questioning if I’m doing it correctly.
-I truly need to dedicate myself to the training every day if I want to see substantial improvement in the short nine weeks I have left.
- Wondering what would sponsorship look like?

Certainly for the next big training goal, I will need to be certain to allot adequate time to the task. But for the situation I’m currently in, how hard can it really be?

💪≠🧠

02/16/2026

After morphing into an unproductive couch potato for the last two months, I realized life really blows when you’re not chasing a goal… at least mine does anyway.

I’ve never been to Germanfest, but it sounds interesting enough to run like my life depended on it, then recover while Germanic libations pulse through my veins where adrenaline once resided earlier.

So sub-20:00? Do any of my friends want to join me? Spectate? Should I have a challenge or dare, depending if I reach that goal or not?

I’ve got 70 days to get back into shape, probably drop some dead weight, then get fast too.

…

How hard can it really be?

12/27/2025

“Limitations are only perceptions” - Anders Hofman

———

Something I never really mentioned post-race is what happened during the race:

At about mile 8, I was running down to White Rock and slowly passed two men running in tandem talking to one another.

“Yeah, like that Jacob Pletan guy, from Sherman. He had like cancer and now he’s runnng a marathon.”

I spun around, now running backwards at the same pace as running forwards.

“Who, like me?”

They stared down at my bib: “D 2020, Jacob Pletan”

“Holy Smokes!!! Yeah, you!”

I introduced myself, having known of one of them from social media, congratulated them, and continued on my merry way to the 4:17:52 finish.

———

In hindsight, you can’t convince me that encounter was happenstance. Out of 26.2 miles, and only passing them throughout the 4.5 hours when they were talking about me? Nah, divine intervention.

But the truth of the matter is that I hope I have been an encouragement to at least someone. I have always said that if sharing my story can make just one person’s journey better, it was worth all the embarrassment, nervousness, publicity, time, work, and everything else.

So with the follow-up interview completed, and the display case hung, I can officially close the chapter that defined much of my 2025.

I want to give a special thanks to Austin Hedgcoth, Caroline Kellam, and Jessica Edwards for their time, work, and interest in my story. I could not have done it without my brother Dustin’s weekly advice, check-ins, and coaching. Special thank-you’s to Keelan Clark, Scott, Grace, Shelby, and my bible-study group’s encouragement.

And finally, thank you to my mom and dad for braving not just the cold of December 14, 2025 to see me, but for hanging in there for the last six years on the wild and turbulent journey that my life has been.

“I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” - Philippians 4:12-13

Stay tuned for upcoming epic journeys, or follow Jacob Pletan to see my day-to-day.

Thanks again for the encouragement! 💪≠🧠

12/18/2025

Rewrite your history, dream a million dreams, and do something hard! I’m honored to have shared a small snippet of my life with the KXII news team and also the surrounding Texoma viewers. This will be one of the moments I will look back on in old age and be very proud of myself for doing.

🧠≠💪

Jacob Pletan, a 22-year-old Texoma resident and cancer survivor, completed his first marathon in Dallas over the weekend as part of his journey to reclaim control over his life.

12/16/2025

Statistics have never applied much to my life nor even to what contributes to my ability to continue living. I’ve written before that the God I serve is not a god of statistics. Nonetheless, here’s some numbers for you:

1,477th out of 3742 participants (who finished), (top 40%)

1166th out of 2608 males (top 45%)

189th out of 356 male 20-24 year olds (top 54% of gender+age)

I averaged (including aid station stops) 9:51min/mile resulting in a 4:17:52 finish time.

In a span of 222 days, I went on 128 runs covering a distance of 619.68 miles, using 3 pairs of shoes.

And finally one… ONE WILD RIDE!

12/16/2025

Training journal: December 14, 2025… 222 days since inception.

My day started at 04:00 AM. I was in Dallas at 06:00 AM. The gun went off at 8:30 AM. I had no breakfast, except for a coffee and a Celsius energy drink.

It was cold. Wind chill around 21°F. Some sunlight once out of downtown, then downhill to White Rock lake for a piercingly cold lake breeze, uphill about 150’ over 2 miles back to Greenville Ave. Warm sunlight again from Greenville Ave. to Ross Ave., back to cold yet again in the shadows of the skyscrapers to the finish line. I was sweating profusely, yet kept my layers on as a wind guard amidst the 6mph wind gusts carrying both warm and cold breezes.

At mile 9, those of us who started in corral D began seeing elite runners already coming back from the White Rock loop despite having started a mere 30 minutes before us. At mile 14, reality started hitting many of us like a ton of bricks realizing both how much we still lacked, but also how long ago it was that we saw the elites flying by us. It was also at this time that the sponsored running gels started giving me stomach discomfort, as it definitely wasn’t the thousands of milligrams of sodium I ingested, the quarts of water I had drank, the gummy bears I had chewed, nor the shots of spirits provided by Highland Park Homeowners. It was also at this point when spectators started becoming increasingly sparing, and the enthusiasm coursing through my veins known as caffeine started waning off. At mile 17 my optical reality started spinning momentarily as I had to hold on to a solid surface to keep my balance, as well as do a mental evaluation of where, why, and who I was. Back up the Gaston Ave. elevation at mile 19 where I was passing many people who were likely either tired, “hit the wall”, or did not train for the hilly terrain of the day. Returning to downtown at mile 22 my legs felt thirty pounds heavier than they did at the start. It took immense concentration to lift them every step. Most participants were walking at this point. But I determined that I would not stop, as stopping would inhibit the one thing keeping me going: momentum. It was strictly a mental exercise at this point keeping me going. As a spectator’s sign bluntly yet truthfully put it: “pain is just weakness leaving the body”… and knowing pain is just a psychological condition that I don’t have to be scared of nor listen to kept me going. At mile 24.5 my femur started giving me more pain. For those who don’t know, this is the first joint to be worked on in my impending joint replacement journey. I didn’t care. I had made it 24.5 miles without walking breaks and wasn’t about to start. By the time I had come this far I knew all I lacked was finishing. In my mind I had slowed considerably, yet on the watch I was averaging a mere 0:43min/mi slower. Four hours, seventeen minutes, and fifty-three seconds after crossing the start line, I crossed it again to mark the ending of my 2025 journey of expanding the limitations of my body and mind.

At mile 23 amidst the pain I was cursing the city of Dallas, angry at the pain it was inflicting on me at the moment, and of the innocence of childhood that was robbed from me through various times in my life at its institutions. I’m not proud of doing that. But it was at mile 26.3 that I was thankful for Dallas. She showed me who I was that day, who I wasn’t, and stripped back any facade I was believing correctly or incorrectly of myself and my abilities. I wasn’t owed anything, but I gave it my all… and I survived.

——————

Why did I write this? So I would have notes to reflect on the next time I do it, of course. 😉