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Kousha Navidar: This is All Of It. I'm Kousha Navidar in for Alison Stewart. If you've ever run a marathon, you know there's a lot that goes into it. You got to train hard, stick to a diet, maybe sacrifice your social life. It's an accomplishment just to get to the starting line. For inmates at San Quentin Prison in California, preparing for a marathon presents a whole other set of challenges. There's limited time to train during the day. Sudden safety lockdowns can disrupt your training schedule. You're stuck with prison food. Despite these challenges, inmates at San Quentin take it on. They run a full marathon, all 26.2 miles, inside the prison walls.

The film 26.2 to Life is a documentary that traces a group of men who decide to run this race. It's called the San Quentin Marathon. Along the way, the film explores more than the race. It delves into their lives, how these inmates use running as a means to work towards their freedom and their redemption. 26.2 to Life is available to stream on ESPN+. With us today right now to talk about it is director Christine Yoo. Hey, Christine. Welcome to All Of It.

Christine Yoo: Hey, how are you? Thank you so much for having me.

Kousha Navidar: Thank you for being here. I watched the documentary. As a runner myself, I was so interested in watching it and learning about this training and what they go through. My understanding is that you stumbled onto the San Quentin Marathon. Is that right?

Christine Yoo: I did. It was one of just those weekend mornings when I was flipping through my Apple news feed and then suddenly I saw this article that was taking me inside the San Quentin Marathon in a GQ Magazine article. It was just one of those moments in life where, by the end of it, I knew that somehow I had to make this film. Though originally it was going to be a regular narrative type of film, a regular motion picture type of project, but then when I started going into the prison and interviewing people and observing, I thought, "I have to do this as a documentary."

Kousha Navidar: Oh, wow. Originally you were going to make a movie, not just a documentary? You were going to write new characters--

Christine Yoo: Exactly.

Kousha Navidar: Tell me about that process. What made you change? Was there a moment where you thought, "No, these individu-- This is a documentary movie?"

Christine Yoo: When I first went into the prison, of course, I didn't know what to expect. I was going in there to observe a half marathon event. I entered with the coaches going down onto the San Quentin Yard for the first time, and you have to walk all the way down. It's probably about-- I don't know, about quarter of a mile, half a mile to your final destination from the time you enter through the gates.

As the men were gathering before that half marathon event, the feeling was festive, I have to say. [chuckles] That feeling of festivity inside a prison struck me as very ironic and just completely turned my expectations and preconceived notions about prison upside down. Then when I started talking with the guys and some of them were making me laugh, and again, that was just such an unexpected thing I felt to happen inside prison walls. As I started thinking about it more, I thought, "Just because people are in prison, it doesn't mean that they stop being themselves."

Kousha Navidar: I know you have a personal relationship with the prison system. How did that impact your drive to start this film?

Christine Yoo: Late 90s, early 2000s, I had a friend that was wrongfully convicted. He was sentenced to 271 years in California State prison. He was also Korean American, so I was deeply impacted by his situation. That definitely led me to questioning of-- just wondering, if I had to spend the rest of my days inside a prison, what does that look like? What does that look like for people? I felt that the marathon was a great metaphor but also a great opportunity to explore that question.

Kousha Navidar: Listeners, if you're just joining us, we're talking about the new documentary 26.2 to Life. It's a documentary about the San Quentin Marathon where prisoners inside of San Quentin Prison run a full marathon and train for it, living inside the prison walls. It's streaming now on ESPN+ and we're talking to the director, Christine Yoo. Christine, I think it'd be best to hear from someone in your film about what the actual marathon route is like. Here's a clip from your film where a few trainers explain the route.

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Trainer: The San Quentin Marathon is way harder than any of the hardest hilly marathons I ran outside of here. I don't want to even call it a track because it's a loop with six 90-degree turns in it. That's hard, and plus, you're running in an environment where there's a couple thousand other people out in the yard and you've got to move around them. Most of the guys are very, very respectful, but--

Markelle, you're doing great.

Is there a better punishment than running? [laughs] That's every other sports punishment. "Go run 10 laps," or whatever.

Kousha Navidar: If a marathon trainer says it's tough, then you know the route is definitely going to be tough. When you first learned about the marathon route, what went through your mind?

Christine Yoo: It's like running on a hamster wheel type of thing, [chuckles] and I've run that loop before, that pathway inside the prison. I would go inside and continue to run with the guys. It's a hard pathway because it's got uphill slope and a downhill slope. The yard doesn't shut down for the marathon, so if people are unaware of what's going on, you have all kinds of people crisscrossing, going in opposite directions. It's dizzying.

Kousha Navidar: Were you a runner before you started doing this documentary?

Christine Yoo: I have definitely been a runner all my life. I'm not a marathoner, though, I will say. [laughs]

Kousha Navidar: Got it. You could tell there was difficulties in this route beyond just the difficulties of running. I think it's interesting how the trainer said, "Running is everyone's punishment," which is a hilarious line. Did the inmates who ran it also share that attitude, did you feel?

Christine Yoo: Absolutely not. Most guys are running because-- In the beginning, they're running mostly for health purposes. "I want to lose weight, I want to get in shape." Over the course of joining the club, I think what they realize is that what they're part of is a community that actually forms. This is a community of people of all races. Inside prison, it's usually a highly segregated type of environment, so it's a time to get outside many walls, so to speak, and also have an opportunity to interface with free people, the volunteers that go in. Many men have lost contact with family members and friends over long periods of incarceration.

Kousha Navidar: That community element really stuck out to me. I was wondering, in your experience, did you see it crossing borders? Because we talk a lot about in prisons and in this movie as well, how you kind of have to choose a side once you go into prison. This club, the 1000 Mile Club, which is what the trainers put on, did you see folks interacting with each other as a community outside of what those normal affiliations were in the prison culture?

Christine Yoo: Yes. I can tell you from just anecdotal experience, field research experience, these are bonds that go outside of the 90-minute workout that these guys have or the races. At the same time, there is something really unique about San Quentin as a prison site. It's actually recently been in the middle of undergoing a transformation to a rehabilitation center from California Governor Gavin Newsom. It's gone from being this place notorious for violence to a place of rehabilitation and an emphasis on programming.

Kousha Navidar: Is that part of the reason why the 1000 Mile Club was able to start, or did that predate that renovation that you're describing?

Christine Yoo: Yes, it did predate it. However, the club started in 2005 under the circumstances that California at that time was seriously overcrowded in terms of its prisons. The Supreme Court of the state, they mandated that the prison had to reduce its population. At that time, to much to the facility's credit, they started to open up the prison to volunteer programs, engage with the community. San Quentin is literally located on San Francisco's Bay, in a very liberal city, really. It opened up to the idea of community engagement, and that's had a really deep impact on the outcomes of a lot of guys who get out.

Kousha Navidar: Folks, if you're just joining us, we're talking to director Christine Yoo about her new documentary. It's 26.2 to Life. It's documentary about the San Quentin Marathon. It's streaming now on ESPN+.

Christine, I'd love to talk about some of the characters in the story as well. Let's talk about Markelle. His name is Markelle Taylor, nicknamed the Gazelle. That's how I remembered him. It was due to his speed. He was recruited to run track for college, but he dropped out and gotten tangled in criminal activity, and that's kind of where we-- not where we meet him, but what his story is when we meet him. What was it about Markelle's story that really compelled you?

Christine Yoo: I met Markelle on that very first day I actually was inside, and of course he was the guy I was told that broke all the records, the fastest man of San Quentin, and he was very mild-mannered, very soft-spoken. I sort of had no idea what to expect, but as I got into his story and his background, his story really speaks to the foster care-to-prison pipeline that exists. He came from a very damaged home, abusive home. His story is a common story in terms of that.

Kousha Navidar: We saw a part of the movie was Markelle working with an attorney to reduce his sentence early for good standing. Did running the marathon play a role in that?

Christine Yoo: I think that running in general for a lot of the guys who are members of the club, what it does is-- you have to remember that people who end up in prison-- We can consider them society's failures in many ways. A lot of these guys have never really had the support prior to their incarceration to set goals for themselves, to complete anything.

For a lot of these guys who say, "I can suddenly run five miles," that may be the biggest accomplishment they've had up to that time and place. What that does is that sets off a newfound confidence. I'm sure as you know, with newfound confidence, people can do anything. It creates a platform for people to then say, "Hey, I can get my GED. I can reconnect with family members." It creates a cycle of positive programming pro-social behaviors that impact people, hopefully for release. I can say that out of the club members that had been released, well over 50 at this point, there is a 0% recidivism rate.

Kousha Navidar: Wow. It reminds me of Tommy, another character. He's an inmate who runs the marathon. He was convicted of voluntary manslaughter. Let's listen to a clip of him reflecting on his journey.

Tommy: As soon as it happened, I knew my life was done. That's why that I just told him, "Give me anything without a life sentence. I'm guilty." I've never been to a trial. I've always took a deal. Five times I took a deal because I'm guilty. I'm not going to waste the state's money and sit in a county jail and-- just give me the deal. Came back and said, "Plead guilty to voluntary manslaughter. Okay, cool. That's 11 years. No, but you're a three striker," so they strike that strike. That 11 turns into 22, then you get five years for each prior prison term. That's 15 more and 10 for the gun, and 10 for the gang. It's a total of 46 years of enhancements on that charge.

All I had to do is just keep going to work and going home, but no. I had to go over to that house that night to come up one more time. Did I really win the fight that night? Did I really win to grow old and die in prison? I've been sober and gang-free for 15 years now, so I'm off to a good start. My wife pushes me to believe that I'm going to be out before calendars. That's her exact words, so hopefully, honey. 2053 is my EPRD, the earliest possible release date. I'll be 86 years old. If I keep running, I'll be all right. You got to stay positive.

Kousha Navidar: Christine, the inmates end up sharing so much about their lives to the camera. They're vulnerable and they're candid about their regrets, their mistakes, their future, their hopes. How did you establish that trust with them?

Christine Yoo: I'll add one thing. When I was interviewing Tommy, this was just kind of a fun background production, but the DP was literally sitting on Tommy's [unintelligible 00:15:27].

Kousha Navidar: That's the director of photography you're talking about?

Christine Yoo: Yes. I was sitting probably right on top of him. Much to the credit of these guys, of course, I spent a lot of time inside the prison when the cameras were not rolling. You have to remember that most cameras that go into the prison, from news sources, news media, they're going usually in there for an hour for a few sound bites that they know that they want. Our approach essentially was to go slow, although we didn't have any choice either, [laughs] I'll say. I think that over time we developed genuine relationships with the guys in the film with many of the members of the club that you don't see in the film as well.

Kousha Navidar: I found it interesting that you said you had to go slow, you had no choice. Are you talking about the production logistics aspect of trying to go into a prison to record? What did that look like?

Christine Yoo: it took about nine months initially to get even clearance to go in. Here's the thing, they don't have to let you in. [laughter] Even when you shoot once, there is no guarantee that they're going to let you back in. We were always very aware that this could all shut down at any given time. [laughs] It made us extra cautious, but we went in, like I said, when the cameras weren't rolling a lot just to hang out with the guys to get to understand what the club really was like and the community that San Quentin is.

Kousha Navidar: Folks, if you're just joining us, we're talking about the new documentary 26.2 to Life. It's a documentary about the San Quentin Marathon run by the inmates. It's streaming now on ESPN+. We've got the director, Christine Yoo, with us.

I want to talk about reintegration for a second because in Tommy's clip that we just heard a couple of minutes ago, he was talking about the compounding sentences and really, you focus on these men to tell a bigger story about the carceral system. What were some of your biggest findings, some of your biggest frustrations, some something that gives you hope?

Christine Yoo: These enhancements, the consecutive enhancements to the original sentencing, it's punitive. It's something that came out of '90s tough-on-crime superpredator era, but the data shows that, basically, 90% of people who are in prison do eventually find their way out somehow through early release initiatives. However, there's a very high recidivism rate, though, at the same time, and while you have the 1000 Mile Club with the 0% recidivism rate, why? Why is that?

I think a lot of it has to basically do with access to programs. You have to give people something to do. If we really want to reduce recidivism, if we really want to try to make a dent into the incarceration system, I think we have to offer people programs. It's proven.

Also, there's a lot of data around the fact that people age out of crime. As people get older, there's a tendency not to commit crimes. You do stupid stuff when you're young. [laughs] That's the majority age when people commit crimes in their teens and their 20s. I think that we have to look at building a system that addresses those life changes, would you do the same stuff as that you did in your 20s, and try to build pathways for people to get out and to show that they've changed. Many of these guys who have had serious addiction problems, et cetera, these are people who are very fit to help some of society's worst problems through their own lived experiences.

Kousha Navidar: I'd also love to get into the process for you of making this film. I wonder if gender played a role in this project at all. You were a woman filming in an all-male prison. What was that like, if anything? There might be nothing to it, but did that play a role when you were actually going to produce the movie?

Christine Yoo: Yes, a lot of people have brought that up. I'll add that my whole producing team, we were all women going in there, but I'll say that I never felt threatened in any way. Usually, people are very courteous to outsiders. Obviously, they know that it's a privilege for people to go inside. I'm a small Asian woman, [laughs] so in some ways, maybe that helped me to-- I don't think I have a very threatening disposition. I think people just genuinely saw that we cared. We cared to get the real story, and we cared to get the nuanced story.

Kousha Navidar: Absolutely. That care really comes through because, for me, the film also made me think about the term second chances. What do second chances mean in your life now after having this film and looking back on it?

Christine Yoo: As I was saying earlier, I think that we owe it to ourselves as a society to consider giving more people second chances. As I mentioned, these are some of the very people who have been through hell and back and have learned through a lot-- they've done a lot. A lot of these guys have done a tremendous amount of work on themselves, internal work, trying to find root causes of violence through restorative justice practices, anti-anger, anti-violence practices. I think that a lot of this stuff can actually help people here out in the free world.

One of the things that I hear a lot interestingly enough from guys who get out-- these are guys who have been inside sometimes for 20 or 30 years. They say, "Man, coming outside here, I am so surprised at how quick people are to get tough and angry," and you're dealing with guys who have been in prison for 20 or 30 years. [laughter]

Kousha Navidar: Wow. Just thinking about it wrapping up here-- We got maybe 20 seconds or so. I'm just interested, do you have any thoughts on doing a marathon after producing this? Any desire to run one yourself?

Christine Yoo: We've been through a movie marathon. [laughter]

Kousha Navidar: Fair enough.

Christine Yoo: I'll leave it at that.

Kousha Navidar: You shed your blood, sweat, and tears. Oh, sorry, go ahead. What were you saying?

Christine Yoo: I said I'll leave it at that.

Kousha Navidar: Leave it at that. All right, let's leave it at that. The documentary is called 26.2 to Life. We've been talking to director Christine Yoo. It's streaming now on ESPN+. Christine, thank you so much.

Christine Yoo: Thank you so much for having me.

 

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