As Jonathan Chiu runs through San Francisco’s neighborhoods Sunday, he’ll be surrounded by hundreds of other competitors through the 26.2-mile marathon course. Along the way, he’ll be cheering for one man who is checking off the miles and the laps some 16 miles to the north.
Chiu, an alumnus of the San Quentin 1,000 Mile Running Club, is running his first marathon outside the walls of San Quentin State Prison this weekend, along with club teammates and former inmates. Markelle Taylor, Eddie Herena, Steve Reitz and Lee Goins are competing in various races as part of the San Francisco Marathon weekend, including the 10K, half-marathon and full marathon.
“This is my first marathon outside in public and in society ever. This is the dream to be able to run free,” Chiu said.
There is one other friend Chiu would like to have beside him as he crosses the finish line.
“In a sense I’m not running this for myself. I’m running the marathon for Tommy Wickerd,” Chiu said. “I ran with (Wickard) inside the prison for years. … I got here today not because of my actions, but because of Tommy and coach Frank Rouna and volunteers and their teachings and discipline. I didn’t know what running really was at first. I didn’t know about pacing, recovery, or any of that. This is my journey, but I wouldn’t be here if not for the support of Tommy, Markelle and others.”
Wickerd, who remains at San Quentin potentially facing another 10 years on his sentence, recently accomplished his goal of running 10,000 miles with the San Quentin 1,000 Mile Running Club. Wickerd, a club member since 2015 and club president, ran 40,000 laps within the boundaries of the prison.
“The San Quentin Marathon takes a lot of mental agility and physical toughness,” said Chiu, who ran five of the 105-lap marathons inside San Quentin. “It’s very repetitive and you have to be very focused and keep running. It’s not about sights and scenery because you’re just staring at the same things every lap.
“The toughest thing besides the repetitiveness is the alarms for a medical incident or something where everybody everybody in the yard has to sit down as a safety measure. It could be at any moment in the race and could last any length of time. Once I sat for 45 minutes in the last quarter of a race. It’s tough because you’re in that zone and you’ve got that runner’s high and all of sudden you have to sit down. All that momentum you built up, sometimes you lose that. But the alarm clears and you have to get back up and start running again.”
Documentary film director Christine Yoo captured the impact of running on the lives of current and former San Quentin inmates with “26.2 to Life”, which received a special screening at the SF Marathon Expo on Saturday, with Taylor, Chiu and Yoo in attendance. The film is scheduled for general release on Sept. 22.
“We are excited to share the message of the transformative power of running at the SF Marathon and within the greater running community of our hometown,” Yoo said.
Chiu was uncertain about the film when he was first approached with the project.
“You don’t think about running in prison, they’re polar opposites,” Chiu said. “Once I got the idea (Yoo) was trying to convey, it made sense. We’re running to move forward in life to get past all the issues and problems you have inside, with separation and being able to survive in prison. I’m glad she was able to do this. It sheds light on something that’s not always talked about in public. … There are so many members of the club and each of us has our own story. The movie conveys what happened to lead up to each person’s incarceration.”
For Chiu, who was convicted of first-degree murder in 2004 and received two sentences of 25 to life for murder and use of a handgun, “I experienced abuses in childhood and grew up thinking violence was an answer. I thought it was a way to correct bad behavior. … That was crazy. Nothing is solved with violence.”
Over the past 20 years, Chiu has joined self-help groups and tried to deal with the childhood trauma that led him to prison. Chiu’s sentence was commuted in 2018 by Gov. Jerry Brown, and he was released in May 2020.
“When I came back out, it was like emigrating to a new country,” Chiu said. “It’s like going to a new country and not knowing the customs, technology, language, or values. It’s hard to adjust and to fit in. I had to learn how people talk and behave. And coming home during the pandemic didn’t help. I’m readjusting out here and I still have ties with the prison and the people who are still there. I do whatever I can to help them.”
Chiu found help from the friends and supporters he found at San Quentin, and release in running.
“I was overweight and never had much hand-eye coordination. I wasn’t good at team sports and I wasn’t good enough to be on any teams,” Chiu said. “I found running was something I was good at. You can run with yourself and be alone, or you can run with a team and be part of something. You can enjoy it, or you can just go in the prison yard and relieve the stress of prison and think about stuff in a meditative state.”
Rouna and volunteers, including famed runner Diana Fitzpatrick helped Chiu and others find the joy of running. The Tamalpa Runners founded the San Quentin 1,000 Mile Club more than 15 years ago. The Tamalpa Runners website states the San Quentin club has included more than 341 members over the years, and that of the 27 members who have been paroled, only one became a repeat offender.
“That was special to me,” said Chiu, a member of the Tamalpa Runners with Taylor. “They would help us any way they can. They were marking our times and being supportive and cheering for us during races. Having them there made it special.”
Taylor, nicknamed “The Gazelle”, has been an example of what club members can achieve once they leave San Quentin. Three years after his release in 2019, Taylor ran the Boston Marathon, finishing in an impressive 2 hours, 52 minutes.
“Markelle made me a better runner,” Chiu said. ”When he ran the Boston Marathon, that was an inspiration to the club. He’s very rare, very inspirational.”
Chiu draws his strength from the freedom of running, alone or with friends, and is “determined to do other marathons. As long as Tommy Wickerd and other club members are running, I’ll be running. Running is part of my life.”
