updated 12:44 p.m. ET May 24, 2009

BOULDER, Colo. - Sometimes Fernando Cabada Jr. thought he wanted to be tough like his father, who dropped in and out of his son's life between prison sentences.

Sometimes the U.S. marathoner thought about emulating his cousins, who cared little about dying or jail time if it meant protecting their own in an unending string of gang violence.

Most of the time, though, he thought about escaping.

His dream was to run away from the trouble he grew up around on the east side of Fresno, Calif., and to take his mother and brother and sister with him.

"I wanted to be something in this world," Cabada said.

Cabada's legs were his ticket, his chance at a better life. Always fleet of foot, he would lie in bed at night, thinking of ways to transform himself from a good runner into a great one.

Now, he's a member of the U.S. men's marathon team heading to Berlin in August for the world championships. His mom and brother are living with him in a three-bedroom apartment in Boulder as he trains under former marathon world record holder Steve Jones.

He's broken free.

"I could've given up, given in, but I didn't," the 27-year-old said, who is competing in the 31st annual Bolder Boulder on Memorial Day. "I was strong enough to say, 'I don't have the heart that you do."'

That would be his mother's heart.

Magdalena "Vicki" Cabada was the backbone, keeping the family together even as her then-husband, Fernando Cabada Sr., was frequently jailed on drug charges.

A high school dropout, Vicki Cabada earned her GED to show her kids the value of education. Then she had to rely on welfare as she took the accounting courses that eventually led to a job as an office manager.

No matter how hectic her schedule, she never missed one of Cabada's meets, taking a bus across town just to scream, "Go, Cheeks" — her nickname for him — as he crossed the finish line.

"She was Supermom," Cabada said.

Despite little money, times were good.

That is, until his father was released from prison, where he often landed because of his drug addiction.

One of Cabada's first gifts from his father?

A pocketknife at 9 years old. That way, he could protect himself.

"My dad was preparing me for the life he'd lived," Cabada said. "It's like if you lived in a town that had a coal mine, everyone knows that way."

His father also wanted him to excel at baseball or basketball. So he'd work with his son for hours - drilling him, pushing him, admonishing him, trying to make up for long absences all in one weekend.

"In two seconds, 20 tears were down my face by his voice," Cabada recalled. "I thank God he wasn't in my life. If he wasn't in jail, I wouldn't be running."

Cabada was never pushed to be a runner. That was his own discovery, his own escape. Something his father, who's back in county lockup on drug charges, couldn't demand of him.

Cabada discovered running in fourth grade by going out for the school's cross country team and participating in local road races.

The day after races, he'd anxiously wait for the paper to land on his porch so he could sprint out to pick it up.

Then he'd bolt back in to show his mom his name in tiny agate type.

"I just wanted to be good at something," Cabada said.

And he was. Very good.

Still, the lure of the streets began to beckon just as he was beginning high school. He was hanging out with gang members, flirting with gang activity.

His mom was worried enough that she moved the family to nearby Clovis, Calif.

The change wasn't easy. Cabada was leaving his friends, his support system behind.

"I wanted to live up to being tough like my dad - wanted to be tough like my cousins," he said. "But my cousins didn't want me going down that road. They're like, 'You're the one that can represent us, you're the golden boy of the family."'

His legs carried him to lofty heights at Buchanan High School, where he earned a scholarship to the University of Arkansas.

Once there, though, running became labor instead of love.

So he transferred to Fresno State. But the cross country program was soon dropped (it has since been reinstated) and he headed back to Arkansas to finish what he started.

However, he didn't have a scholarship this time. He was trying to work, train and attend classes.

It ran him ragged.

One day, he simply walked away from school and running.

Back in California, Cabada went to work mixing mud and laying tile for a construction company, bringing home $8 an hour. He bragged to co-workers about being an elite runner, but they thought it was just that - big talk. One of them even challenged him, saying, "If you're so great, why are you doing this?"

It woke him up.

He wound up at Virginia Intermont, an NAIA school, where he captured seven titles in track and cross country.

Not only that, but he began to realize something: he was standing in his own way, letting his past weigh him down.

"I was sick of selling myself short," said Cabada, who's still working toward his degree. "I was scared to jump off the bridge and make that commitment."

Finally, he leapt - straight into the marathon.

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