When Bryan Singleton sees his coach, they high-five. There are barely any clouds in the sky, and it’s hot in the yard. A few feet away, a trough with water runs constantly. Several men in uniform watch Singleton and his teammates from an elevated platform.
Singleton, who goes by Saliq, has been in and out of prison since he was 18. On this Wednesday evening in July, he finishes something he’s been working on for three years.
The Ohio to Erie challenge requires someone to run 326 miles. It’s the equivalent of running from Cincinnati to Cleveland — or in Singleton’s world, 815 laps around a gravel track in his prison.
Only three of his teammates have done it. Until Wednesday.
Singleton said he could have completed the challenge earlier, but he wanted to do it with his team. And on his final lap, he jogs with his coach, Alex Gold. Gold is an engineer at GE who said Singleton is known for pulling out something extra at the end of every race.
“It’s kind of his specialty,” Gold said.
Gold, a volunteer, pitched the idea of this running club to the Lebanon Correctional Institution during the pandemic. Gold is a competitive runner, and he coaches some elite high-school athletes. Here, he coaches some people who’ve never run before.
“A lot of these guys haven’t been given a compliment in the past few years,” Gold said. “Giving them a high-five can have a life-changing impact on their lives.”
The 45-year-old Singleton ran before, but never competitively. Now, he puts his times from the yard up against others in online races. He said it’s helped him find an extra gear to deal with life behind bars.
“Sometimes when you think you can’t go no more you got a lot more left,” Singleton said while running.
Elsewhere in the yard, Brian Gray breathes heavily. He’s sitting on a bench and pulls down his sock to show a bullet in his ankle. It’s why he says he never ran before last year, when he joined the running club.
“It’s still in there somewhere,” he said of the bullet. “But this has showed me that I can overcome it.”
He’s been in prison for five years, and he’s struggled at times — ending up in Lebanon after trouble at his last prison. Running has helped.
“It’s therapeutic,” he said. " It makes you forget you’re in this cage.”
Now, Gray has a prison job and takes college courses.
“Even though I’m in a negative place, I can do something positive,” he said. “It’s a way to show my children even though I made some mistakes, I’m trying to better myself.”
Prison officials tell us this program is working. Of all the club’s members, none have had a serious rule infraction since last fall.
“They’re very proud to be here. This is something they have a passion for,” said Doug Luneke, the prison’s warden. “It helps us, and it helps the community.”
At our request, the prison’s public information officer reviewed disciplinary records and found improvement for almost all the running club members.
And inside, those who are incarcerated started their own club. It has nearly 100 members and runs on evenings when Gold isn’t there.
Outside, Gold and his volunteers smile.
“We’re always in such a good mood when we’re leaving,” said Gold, the prison now in his rearview mirror. “Even on the days I don’t feel like coming out here, I’m always really happy that I did.”
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