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By Liz Gill
T
he breath of 18 inmates is still visible in the air at 8 a.m. on Nov. 16, 2016, as they line up for the start on the west side of the prison yard. Standing under the San Quentin State Prison “Field of Dreams” scoreboard wearing white and grey, mesh and cotton, they stand in stark contrast to the mandated all-black dress code of the volunteer coaches and lap counters of the 1,000 Mile Running Club.
photo: R.J. Lozada
A row of sweats, hydration and nutrition awaits runners of the seventh Annual San Quentin State Prison Marathon. Chris Scull’s repurposed sriracha bottle filled with an electrolyte solution lies on top of a pair of sweats. Chris Schumacher, a diabetic, has saved up a stockpile of jelly packets from mess hall-issued peanut butter and jelly lunches that he plans to take every 6 miles. Markelle Taylor’s lap counter waits for him with a Snickers Bar. Lorinzo Hopson has no nutrition at all, but will be strongly encouraged to drink throughout the race since he collapsed at mile 23 during the 2014 marathon, which required medical attention for dehydration and shut down the prison yard for 15 minutes.
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Head coach Frank Ruona shouts some last-minute instructions at the start. “One hundred and four full laps. The 105th lap you stay inside on the baseball field. We’re going in one and a half minutes! Make sure you hydrate. Be smart. One minute!”
“T-minus one minute!” an inmate chimes in. Markelle Taylor looks nervous. He could barely sleep in his cell the night before thinking about his attempt to break the 3-hour barrier. Coming off a successful period of fall training where he completed just over 25 miles in three hours, a 1:17 half marathon, and 59 minutes for 10 miles, Taylor has a shot at breaking the San Quentin Marathon Open Record (which he set in 2015 in 3:16:07) and becoming the first person to run under three hours in prison. Others, like Tommy Wickerd, have been anticipating this morning for 364 days. Some ate a few slices of leftover pizza for breakfast and hope for the best, while others set out to run as far as possible through injuries because running, they explain, has become like breathing. At coach Ruona’s command, the runners set off on the 400-meter loop course underneath the prison yard watchtowers past palm trees and barbed wire, along the dirt of the baseball field, up through the blacktop passing the basketball courts, and loop down past a 19th-century dungeon. Many of San Quentin’s population, including these runners, are serving life sentences for murder or manslaughter. It’s the only prison in the state of California with a death row. Security is tight.
1/16/17 12:24 PM