THE 1000 MILE CLUB
Running a marathon is life-changing for many, but for those who make it to the finish of the San Quentin Marathon – 105 laps around the yard of the Californian prison immortalised by Johnny Cash – the journey can be truly transformative. David Smyth tells the story of the 1,000 Mile Club
FRANK RUONA DOESN’T CARE WHAT YOU DID.
FRANK CARES WHAT YOU’RE GOING TO DO NOW.
Every Friday and every second Monday, the 77-year-old US Army veteran and former construction company manager arrives at the gates of San Quentin State Prison. He’ll be carrying a shoulder bag covered in race numbers, a large digital timing clock and the beige card that gives him access to California’s oldest prison. You know he’ll be wearing a black cap and a T-shirt that both say ‘1,000 Mile Club’, with a logo of a shoe that has wings. He’s consistent.
Once he and a varying cast of fellow volunteer coaches are set up in the prison yard, with its scrubby grass, exercise equipment and dusty baseball diamond, surrounded by chainlink fences and a 10m-high wall interspersed with watch towers, the runners will arrive. To a man, they have committed serious crimes and are paying for them with long stretches of incarceration. They have made a commitment to Frank: to run a total of a thousand miles or more during their time in San Quentin and, more specifically, to build their distance over a year to culminate in a full marathon in November. That’s 105 laps of the yard, six right-angled turns every lap, dodging non-participating prisoners and free-to-leave Canada geese. They will run knowing that at any moment an alarm could sound that means they need to stop and sit where they are until whatever emergency it is this time has cleared.
‘Frank cares, not by what he says, but by showing up,’ says Rahsaan ‘New York’ Thomas, 52, who joined the club while serving 55 years to life. ‘We deal with a lot of abandonment issues. If you’re in prison, most likely one of your parents abandoned you. When you get locked up, most of your family and friends abandon you. So having someone that consistently shows up in your life is huge. It means a lot.’
Frank, Rahsaan and two other prisoners, Tommy Wickerd and Markelle Taylor, are the stars of an inspirational new documentary about the 1,000 Mile Club. Titled 26.2 To Life, it depicts their daily existence in San Quentin and their journey to participating in the marathon – and in Markelle’s case, beyond. Now 51, he was released on parole in March 2019 after 17 years and seven months inside, and six weeks later ran the Boston Marathon in 3:03:52. He had met the venerable race’s stringent qualifying standard by beating 12 other inmates to win the San Quentin Marathon.
