I met Cesar Quijano in April of 2024 while he was training for the biggest race of his life — a 100-mile trek in the San Diego mountains.
Quijano didn’t want to just complete the San Diego 100. He wanted to run it in under 24 hours — a goal that would mean running under 9 minute miles for 24 hours straight. For someone who couldn’t run a mile a few years ago, this would be a feat.
“I never accomplished anything in my life,” he said. “I never started anything or wanted to start anything because I was afraid of failing.”
Cesar Quijano
Quijano is a recovering heroin addict who had been out of prison for two-and-a-half years. For him, the San Diego 100 wasn’t just about a physical triumph. It was about proving to himself that he could finish something for once in his life.
In many ways, running was keeping Quijano afloat, giving him a sense of purpose and structure. It was also consuming his life.
“People say that it's an obsession, and I think it is,” Quijano said. “I think I overdo it sometimes, but it's keeping me sane.”
From prison to running his first mile
For the past 15 years, Quijano has been in and out of various prisons across California. He grew up in San Diego and had little guidance as a kid. He dropped out of school, and by the time he was 12, Quijano had joined a gang. Soon, he was going to juvenile hall and less than two months after getting out of juvenile hall at 18 years old, he was involved in a robbery. He got two years. Not long after he got out, he got in trouble again and he was sentenced to four years. Two years later, he was back serving a six-year sentence.
From Corcoran to Chino, Calipatria to Ironwood — every time Cesar got out of a state prison, he’d end up going back.
On Jan. 1, 2022, he wanted this reentry to be his last.
I reached out to the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR) — the agency that operates the state’s prison and parole systems. They said they provide a comprehensive reentry planning process, which connects formerly incarcerated people to various services outside of prison. Quijano learned about his reentry options, not from CDCR, but from a family member who had also been to prison.
And he decided to go to Amity, a transitional home in Vista, 60 miles outside San Diego, with comprehensive reentry services.
Amity's Vista campus about 60 miles east of San Diego, where Cesar lived when he got out of prison.
At Amity, Quijano started attending self-help workshops for the first time in his life. He also grew close with the organization’s Associate Director of Residential Campus, Oswaldo “Ozzie” Terriquez, who introduced Quijano to running. At first, Quijano couldn’t finish a mile.
“I think it took me like two weeks, three weeks just to be able to finish that mile,” Quijano said. “But then something clicked. Now, I had a goal.”
California’s shifting focus towards reentry
Cesar Quijano is one of 35,000 to 40,000 people released from prison each year in California and going through the process of reentering society, a process known as “reentry.” Nearly 30% of this total population will parole to Los Angeles County, more than any other county in the state.
A wave of criminal justice reforms and a national shift away from mass incarceration meant a refocusing of efforts toward supporting people in reentry. Since 2019, California Gov. Gavin Newsom approved the closure of three adult prison facilities. Another prison is set to close this year. He dismantled death row and is turning San Quentin, the state’s oldest prison, into a rehabilitation center based on Norway’s prison model. As the state plans for a continued reduction in the prison population, creating pathways to a successful reentry is crucial.
When it comes to supporting people getting out of prison, there are several key factors to successful reentry.
“ Housing and employment and trying to establish some source of income,” said Professor Elsa Chen, who teaches at Santa Clara University. “And then some of the other obstacles might seem a little bit more abstract.”
Those abstract elements include social networks, civic participation, mental health, and finding a sense of structure and purpose.
Quijano found a lot of those qualitative needs through Amity, his mentor Ozzie, and ultrarunning.
“ Things that I was missing my whole life I gained by going to Amity.” Cesar said.
As for running?
“ It's a spiritual experience,” Cesar told me. “Having this battle within yourself about whether I should keep going or stop, I see it as a spiritual experience. That's what running does for me.”
Race day: Running 100 miles
On June 7, 2024, Quijano and 255 other ultrarunners gathered under a “Start” banner at Lake Cuyamaca in the San Diego Mountains. Quijano started the race strong, but by mile 30 he was in what runners call the “pain cave.” By mile 40, he lay down on a rock by the side of the road, and for the first time in the race, contemplated throwing in the towel. But even if Quijanowas ready to give up, other ultrarunners wouldn’t let him. It might be an individual sport, but there is a community mindset. A group ran by Quijano, hoisted him up, and carried him back to the road.
“For a long time…I was never willing to accept help," Quijano said. “But something deeper in me was like, you know what? I need help.”
Twenty-nine hours, 16 minutes and 28 seconds after leaving the starting line, Quijano completed the San Diego 100.
Cesar Quijano poses for a picture for Ozzie, his pacesetter.
What made this reentry different
This January, Quijano celebrated his third year of being out of prison. By CDCR metrics, he’s had a successful reentry. But when I asked Quijano what made this reentry different, he told me it was Amity, and all the people he met there, especially Ozzie. This support system has stood by him throughout his reentry, encouraging him as he trained for the San Diego 100 and showing up to the finish line to cheer him on.
As for direction and purpose? Cesar gets that from running.
Cesar Quijano and his Amity support team at the finish line of the San Diego 100.
A few weeks after the race I asked Quijano what it felt like to cross the finish line.
“I don't think happiness is the right word," he said. "I think it was something better than happiness because it was more meaningful to me. Just knowing that I've finally finished something that I started.”
First published January 8, 2025, on www.laist.com
https://laist.com/news/health/ultramarathon-running-and-prison-reentry-how-one-man-rebuilt-his-life-100-miles-at-a-time
