A group of friends taking a neighborhood walk on a Thursday morning isn’t out of the ordinary in most parts of San Francisco. But when that neighborhood is the Tenderloin — and those friends are struggling with some mix of homelessness, health issues, addiction, or poverty — a walk feels different, almost defiant.
Every week, the Tenderloin walk starts at St. Anthony’s Medical Clinic on Golden Gate Avenue. It began in 2007 as a gathering of diabetes patients, a way to push back against their condition one step at a time, but it’s become much more than that.
“It’s pretty loose,” says Jaime Martinez, a St. Anthony’s nutrition expert and the group’s long-time leader. Of the 15 or so people who join each week, not everyone has diabetes, Martinez explains, though everyone checks their blood sugar level before and after the walk. For some, it’s just out of solidarity.
On a recent Thursday, the group gathers outside St. Anthony’s to stretch, catch up with friends, and just enjoy the excuse to be outside.
St. Anthony’s, most famous for its free meals (what used to be known as a “soup kitchen”), has worked hard in other ways to get people outside.
A few years ago, the organization led a coalition of nonprofits to convert their block into a kind of “slow street,” complete with public seating and raised garden beds. It was an ambitious effort, with a well-known open-air drug market around the corner. But crime and years of bureaucracy have put that project in limbo.
“Our hands are tied” in finding more permanent solutions to crime, says Sally Haims, St. Anthony’s chief marketing and communications officer, adding that the whole community, including law enforcement, the district attorney, and judges need to be involved.
The St. Anthony’s walking group pays little mind to crime, cars, or the neighborhood’s reputation. “The dangers of the Tenderloin — I don’t really see it,” said Martinez. “It’s more just kind of like, watching where you step. Everybody knows the neighborhood pretty well, so they know what to look out for.”
Martinez adds that in more than 10 years of leading the walks, he has only stepped in poop once, though “it was a big shit.” His sneakers sunk into it and it even touched his sock. It’s surprising given how nimbly he moves throughout the neighborhood, sometimes walking backwards, other times racing ahead to check for stragglers.
He’s both the tour guide and the social glue that keeps everyone together. Wearing his St. Anthony’s baseball cap backwards, Martinez weaves in and out of various conversations despite the 50-year age difference between members.
The diabetes challenge
Diabetes doesn’t get the same attention as the Tenderloin’s high-profile challenges. But it’s just as real, if not more. Adults who struggle to afford food are far more likely to have diabetes. In the Tenderloin, as many as 50 percent of residents are considered food insecure.
Regular exercise is crucial, even a slow-paced walk like today. The St. Anthony’s group takes 5 minutes to get to its first stop a couple blocks away, Boedekker Park. Once known for drug-dealing and for having the “worst playground” in San Francisco, it went through a renovation in 2014, and the group gathers for a photo underneath the park’s new mural. The walkers “like to see the pictures,” says Martinez, who created an Instagram account that has more than 100 followers.
We leave the Tenderloin and head toward Union Square, passing tourists lined up for the cable cars at Powell and Market. Anastasia Rogers is one of the younger members of the group, rocking a Taylor Swift sweatshirt, and she marvels at the life-sized Christmas ornaments lining the streets — or a space where one once stood. “One is stolen!” she yells to the group. Martinez hurries along, entertained but unfazed.
Soon, the walkers blend in with the rest of the city. Tourists with shopping bags unwittingly join us, and men in red uniforms try to hand us brochures for the Hop-On-Hop-Off bus tour. “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” blasts across the Union Square ice rink, where a sole skater, all in black and wearing silver beads, takes off her headphones to dance.
The walks are never exactly the same, says Martinez. They’ve gone all the way to Oracle Park where the Giants play — more than three miles roundtrip — and another time to Salesforce Park. If there’s a light rain, Martinez might hand out ponchos.
Managing diabetes means being mindful of the sugar that enters your body, and mistakes can be disastrous. As we circle back toward the Tenderloin, one walker, Miguel Gonzalez, tells me that his blood sugar level was dangerously high last week, and he thought he might faint.
A single hour of exercise walking around downtown San Francisco won’t solve some of the problems that make Gonzalez’s diabetes hard to manage — namely, that he’s a recovering alcoholic. Drinking alcohol increases the risk for diabetes and related complications. In addition to walking, Gonzalez also attends AA regularly, though he has a habit of sneaking candy from the meetings. He’s been a fixture on the walks for a year, often sharing the candy he finds, despite gentle scolding from his friends.
The results of the walk are still tangible, even if they’re short-lived. A person’s sugar level can drop significantly after one of these weekly walks, says Martinez. Back at St. Anthony’s, the walkers check their levels at the clinic. Bemused, Gonzalez shares that his level has gone up slightly during the walk, though it’s still within a much healthier range than last week.
De Jesus Chanmis only recently started coming to St. Anthony’s again after being released from the hospital in early November. Chanmis had three strokes a few months ago, all in quick succession. He also lost vision in one of his eyes and sensation in some of his fingers — all of which are potentially diabetes-related complications.
“My doctor told me to go (on these walks) or else I might lose my vision,” Chanmis tells me while checking his blood sugar.
The walk has lowered it to a healthier level and he looks pleased, even if it’s just one step in the right direction. When Gonzalez offers him a coffee-flavored candy, he gladly accepts.
