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Text by Rachel Swaby
Photos by Ian Allen

5:45 A.M.

James Cook, 45, founder/head coach of 02Athletics Bootcamp, Oakland, CA (wearing yellow shirt in front row). Kezar regular for 14 years; runners since 1991. Here to train boot-campers:

"I used to be a professional Muay Thai kickboxer and [a mixed martial arts] fighter. I would run past Pezar in the morning at 5:15, but it was never open. Finally, I decided to climb the west side gate and work out. I did that for so many years. Kezar is my secret weapon. It extended my fighting career five years. In late 2006, other fighters were saying, 'Wow, you're really well-conditioned.' I invited them to come train with me here. That kind of morphed into teaching civilians the combat sports conditioning I do now."

5:45 A.M.

Ravi Durbeej, 39, bartender, San Francisco. Kezar regular for about a year; runner since 2012. Here to run the stairs:

"A couple of years ago, I started having panic attacks that were from a big mix of everything, I suppose: too much drinking and partying, gaining weight, not happy with the direction of my life, getting old–usual stuff. Ha! I tried jogging. Now I come to Kezar a couple times a week. I'm not social. But I do like seeing the same people; I give them a nod. Since I started running, I've lost most of the weight and my anxiety is not a factor anymore. I love getting up early in the morning to go to Kezar before I start my day. After the stairs, there's really nothing anyone can do to bother me."

10:00 A.M.

Peter Allen, 73, retired surveyor, San Francisco. Been coming to Kezar since he was a kid; lifelong runner. Here to stay strong:

1:30 P.M.

Roberto Chavez, 49, groundskeeper, Richmond, CA. Has worked at Kezar Stadium for five years; plays soccer. Here to keep up appearances:

"The biggest problem is the birds. There are sometimes three, four, six lacrosse or soccer games on the field in the middle of the track over the weekend, and the players just tear the grass up. During the week, I patch the field with a divot mix of seeds, soil, and sand. After we fill in the holes, there are all these seeds on the field; the pigeons come and eat them. Sometimes we'll throw a rake to scare the birds–not to kill them!–or I'll whistle like a hawk. Sometimes they get scared; other times they're just, 'Eh.' Summer is particularly bad. I know all the sprinkler stations so I'll turn them on and target the birds."

1:30 P.M.

"I tell everyone that Kezar is my baby."

4:15 P.M.

Robert McDaniels, 56, coach/founder of MacCanDo Tenderloin Youth Track Club (which teaches at-risk youth ages 5 to 12 to run), Vallejo, CA (wearing purple shirt). Kezar regular for 25 years; runner for more than 35. Here–with wife, Yuko–to teach the kids:

4:15 P.M.

5:45 P.M.

Sue Johnston, 72, cofounder of Impala Racing Team for women, Oakland, CA. Kezar regular since 1991; runner for 37 years (has a 2:58:24 marathon PR). Here for her team:

"In 1979, we had this crazy rule that you had to run a 6:30 mile to join the Impalas. when Kezar opened to the public in 1991, we jumped from 20 to 100 members. The track made it easier to include slower people; it isn't just a place for speed, it's for encouraging the group. In new members, you see amazing improvements week after week. When the women speed by me, they say, 'Go, Sue–good job!' I do the same thing for them."

7:30 P.M.

Justin Mikecz, 34, architect, San Francisco. Coming to Kezar for five years; runner for 21 (has a 2:46 marathon PR). Here with his wife, Yvonne, to train:

"About four years ago, there was a mile time-trial here. The first woman to cross the finish line was Yvonne. I didn't know who she was. We talked afterward, but mostly about getting her out for cross-country. But then she disappeared. In October, at a cross-country race, I saw her coming down the hill. I yelled, 'Go, Monica!' But as she got closer to me, I realized, That's not Monica."

Yvonne Ou, 37, ophthalmologist, San Francisco. Kezar regular for four years; runner for 21 (has a 2:56 marathon PR):

"He called me the wrong name, basically. After that, we started doing some runs together. Then I asked if he wanted to pace me for my first ultramarathon. He was complaining, 'I'm going to crash.' Then at mile 26, he just drops me. He ran the whole thing. On the ride home I was getting impatient, and I nudged him to ask me out. After that, we were pretty much a couple. When he proposed, he sent me on a scavenger hunt and Kezar was one of the stops, to commemorate where we first met."

8:00 P.M.

Todd Rose, 41, teacher, San Francisco. Kezar regular for 17 years; runner since 1987 (has a 1:08:04 half-marathon PR and a 5:41 beer mile PR). Here to train before grabbing a beer:

"As soon as I moved here in 1997, I went to Hoy's–a legendary running store in the Haight. I asked where the fast guys work out, and they said, 'At Kezar, 6 p.m. on Tuesday nights.' Back then, I could easily find the guys who were fast. Now on Tuesdays, there are five or six different groups of people. Kezar is a super-special place. I doubt there's another public track that gets this quality of runner–and the volume of them–on a regular basis."

8:00 P.M.

While there are still plenty of people in the stadium, few of them are actually running. They're pulling on hoodies and peeling off running shoes. Kezar's day is almost over.

10:00 P.M.

The lights, on a timer, cut out. The few runners who crammed in late-night laps head out. Someone from Park Patrol locks one gate, inspects the area, then moves to lock the other. The trash cans are full, and evidence of the day's activities are scattered about–a water bottle, a food wrapper, a sweatshirt tied around the bleacher railing. The stadium is left to the birds.