The running club at a maximum-security prison

I DON'T KNOW about those shorts," the correctional officer says. "They're supposed to go to the knee."

"They do go to the knee," I say, tugging at my waistband until it's riding precariously low, "to the top of the knee. Look, I wore these last time and nobody said anything."

"Be that as it may," she says, "do they go any lower?"

While the other outsiders slip off their shoes and pad toward the metal detector, I have to monkey around with my clothes. Maximum security, of course, is not the...

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