Meet Antonyo, Team Southside Member
On a recent Tuesday morning, Team Southside Resident Member Antonyo was awarded a new running jacket as thanks for recruiting a group of new Members from inside the reentry center. After accepting the jacket, he turned to address the new runners: “It is great to see all of you new guys out here, you bring a great energy. But, I also want to see you all out here in a few weeks, a few months. Things [in your life] will start to get more difficult, and it might get harder to stick with this. If you need to take a break for a day, then take a day. Don’t take a month. This group will be the biggest support you have over the next few months. When I started a few months ago, I was walking most of the time. Now I am running most of the time. These people are here to walk with you, or do whatever you need to do. So do yourselves a favor and stick with Mile in My Shoes.”
Antonyo joined Team Southside in April, and completed his first 5K at the Downtown Run Around in June. Now an Alumni, Antonyo, a natural leader, is at the heart of this team. As he grows in his own running, he’s become a guide for other new Members.
“For me, growing up was rough. I had no father figure. My mom was a full-blown addict. This was the 80s and early 90s, in the middle of the crack epidemic. I have four younger siblings, I was the oldest, and we moved around alot. My mom, though, she always made sure we had what we needed - housing, clothes, food - we were never on the streets. We may not have had what we wanted, but we had what we needed. I never felt like I was on the backburner.
My teammates have been really patient with me as I set and slowly reach my goals. I never ran in prison. But, I’ve been running all my life - from issues, from problems. I even ran from help. Now I’m running to feel good.
I had hoped to train with some of my teammates for the (City of Lakes) half marathon - I would love to achieve that distance, and with y’all, I know I could. But recently, I picked up more hours at work and so I had to give up the training. I’ll keep it 100 with you - going back to the streets is NOT an option for me. And so I have to work a lot so that I can first own my own car, then own a house - things I was never able to do the right way before this. I just recently passed my test and got my driver’s license. My plan is to work hard so that I can get promoted and get better pay. Then I’ll be able to relax and take more time for things that will keep me happy & healthy - and I’ll be back for that half marathon next year!
I was a dangerous individual at one time - I was angry at the world. But there's no such thing as a ‘hardened criminal’ - that’s an image. I had to let go of my image. Now I’m living a life I never lived before, and it feels good. I’m proud of myself! I want to give back what I’ve taken from society. I can never replace all I’ve taken, but I’m gonna try.”
Interested in helping Antonyo in reaching his goals? You can support him by contributing to him directly on CashApp, where his profile (named for his two grandkid’s nicknames) is: $badbabypacman
I started selling drugs by the time I was ten. My mom knew, but she wasn’t in a position to do anything about it. I developed a reputation pretty early on - set myself apart because I was willing to do whatever it took. When you grow up with anger, you do what needs to be done without thinking about the consequences, without remorse even. I had my first gun at 13.
When I was a young teenager, I started doing something - I started just calling people randomly in the phone book. I’d just opened a page, point to a number and call. From maybe age 12 to 17. I just needed someone to talk to, honestly, and it’s easier to talk to someone that you don’t know. People would pick up the phone and I’d just ask them if they’d mind listening to me, I needed to get some stuff off my chest. Some people would want to meet me, maybe they wanted to help, but I didn’t do that. Some would just tell me to keep my head up. Kids just need someone to listen to them. That’s why I want to work with youth - I know what would’ve helped me when I was young. My probation officers, they gave me a lot of speeches, but they never really listened.
I was in and out of juvenile “camps” and programs a lot as a teenager. When I was 15, I left St. Paul and went to Peoria, IL - I ran, basically, from the cops after an incident - to where I’d discovered my dad lived. I’d had no contact with my father, but I had no place else to go. You know what my dad asked me when I got there, after all this time? He said ‘I heard you’ve been selling weed. You got some for me?’ That really hurt me.
I went from selling drugs to trafficking drugs across state lines to guns. I never used drugs, except for weed - I saw what it did to my mom, aunties, even my grandma - so I did well. I didn’t have the problems that so many others have. I was selling for the rush, for the money. I was addicted to the money the way that others are addicted to the drugs. I bought all the things I didn’t have as a kid. I bought my first house at 16 - in cash, no deed, I didn’t know anything about that, I didn’t know any better.
At 18, I had my first daughter. This made me wonder if I should quit. But at this point, I was able to buy things that my family never had. What was my other option? I wouldn’t have even had the first idea how to go about getting a job. I only knew one way of life. People can go so quickly from good to bad, you know? In an instant. But it doesn’t work the other way around.
As I got older, nothing really changed - I only started to get in worse trouble. The cops knew my first and last name. My life became always having to look over my shoulder - it’s the worst feeling in the world. I had other children by now, and I’d gotten tired of being targeted. I’d done well enough, so I stopped selling anything but weed. But, the police considered me a public risk, and a high-speed chase in 2008 ended in a sentence of 7 years.
I was locked up at 29 years old. The day I entered prison, I told myself I was done. When I get out, no more drugs, no more guns. I committed to becoming better, to changing my life. I had been addicted to the streets, to the lifestyle. I had respect from the streets. But now I wanted respect from myself.
Prison was like walking into a whole other world. I had to do it, but I would not recommend it! Federal prison was more dangerous [than state] - we were really told right away we had to fend for ourselves. Prison was also very segregated, which was new for me. Promoting racism is a way to keep control, to keep groups pitted against one another - that way they won’t cooperate. So in prison all these years, I was only around other Blacks. People would never run together like we do here [at Mile in My Shoes] on the inside. Running with our team now gives me hope. Often I am the only Black person running in our group. But do I feel strange? No, because unlike many people out there, the people in this group are not judging me by my skin but by my character. People who care about getting to know ME, and what I think about things.
Mile in My Shoes has been a big change for me. Not just the running, but being around people who really don’t understand what it’s like to be me or be from where I am from - but who want to know me. I love running with the team because it’s all these professional people who care and don’t judge. I mean, what makes Run Mentors wake up in the morning and say “Let’s see if we can get some convicts out here to run with us?” Y’all treat everyone the same. You don’t just give some people hugs, you give every person hugs.
