There's More Than One Way to Get to Cleveland: 10 Lifestyles of Recovery That Lead to Freedom From Addiction

By Todd Crandell, Tim Vandehey and Chris McCormack

Twelve-step programs like AA don't work for many addicts. The Ten Lifestyles of Recovery are the holistic, healthy alternative. Former addict, addiction counselor and ultra-endurance athlete Todd Crandell explains what makes the Lifestyles work.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781626758445

Book preview

© 2013 Todd Crandell

Published by Racing For Recovery, P.O. Box 160, Sylvania, Ohio 43560

Cover design by Candu Creative, www.canducreative.com

ISBN: 9781626758445

CONTENTS

Poems from Racing For Recovery meetings

Who This Book Is For

People Who Made this Book Possible

Foreword by Chris McCormack, Two-Time Ironman World Champion

Introduction

Chapter One: Substance Abuse Ruins Lives

Chapter Two: Pursue Positive Alternatives To Substance Abuse

Chapter Three: Rely On Friends, Family, Teachers and Peers

Chapter Four: Define and Work Toward Everyday Balance

Chapter Five: Build Self-Esteem and Confidence

Chapter Six: Understand that Isolation and Self-Pity Lead to Self-Destruction

Chapter Seven: Be Patient With Friends And Family

Chapter Eight: Assist, Don’t Enable.

Chapter Nine: Recognize and Embrace Personal Challenges

Chapter Ten: Care for Your Personal, Emotional, Physical and Spiritual Individuality

Afterword

Acknowledgements

We read these poems at each Racing For Recovery support group meeting:

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters by Portia Nelson (1980)

1. I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost...I am hopeless. It isn’t my fault. It takes forever to find a way out.

2. I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don’t see it. I fall in again. I can’t believe I am in the same place. But it isn’t my fault. It takes a long time to get out.

3. I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it is there. I still fall in...it’s a habit. My eyes are open. I know where I am. It is my fault. I get out immediately.

4. I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it.

5. I walk down another street.

The Answer by Donald D. Carr

Running from the misery, trying to escape the pain.

As I approach the light of hope that lies before me.

Each step overwhelms me, every breath sears my throat.

I ache, my body rebels against me. My memories torment me.

Agony has become my closest companion.

My demons mock me as I dangle helplessly

Above the abyss of alcohol and drug abuse.

The voices all sound the same,

Criticizing, accusing, blaming me for what has happened.

They don’t understand. They don’t care who I am.

I’m a human being, full of thoughts and feelings.

I’m worth saving. Just show me the way.

At last, I reach the light of promise. There stands the answer.

Open arms, understanding smiles, looks of trust.

Who This Book is For

This book was written to help people understand that they can recover from drugs and alcohol and to help the friends and family of addicts fully understand how substance abuse affects lives. Emotional pain causes us not only to use drugs but to make other choices that damage our lives and unintentionally hurt those we care about. Doing our best to not harm ourselves in any capacity while striving to improve our lives in a holistic manner is the key to fully living a life without drugs. I wish you peace in your journey to becoming all you can be.

People Who Made This Book Possible

My everlasting thanks goes out to these generous individuals who donated to help pay for the cost of writing and publishing this book:

C.J. Armstrong

Gideon Arnold

Ben Barton

Sherry Bassinger

Stephen Bedrin

Donna Bly

Abbey Boston

Matt Boston

Shelley Cook

Bob Crone

Priscilla Dickerson

Colleen Donaldson

Everdry Waterproofing

Susan Grombacher

Jon Hanson

Kristin Higgins

Scott Hoyt

Betty Kempa

John Kolbe

Mary Koury

Kenneth Krausman

John Lines

Christy Mack

Barbara May

Brian May

Peter Montoya

Krista Park

Sherry Papier

John Parsons

Camie Quillen

Michael Redfern

Marnie Regen

Danielle Rowe

Jennifer Schelter

Darren Scherbain

Sam Swadley

Heather Sydes

Susie Tatum

Jim Thomas

Julianne Viscardo

Kathryn Weiler

Foreword

Chris McCormack, Two-Time Ironman World Champion

I heard about Todd Crandell through my friend and ghostwriter, Tim Vandehey, who helped me write my book, I’m Here to Win, and also helped Todd write this book. As soon as I read about Todd’s story, I knew I wanted to contribute something to help make his second book a success.

I’ve spent most of my life, and my entire career as a triathlete, trying to better myself. From my first trips to France as a young man trying to break into the World Cup series, to my switch to the Ironman distance and my eventual two wins at Kona, to my attempt to go back in time and make the 2012 Australian Olympic team, I have always tried to get better, get smarter, and challenge myself in new ways. I can’t imagine abusing alcohol or putting drugs into my body. But there’s no question that it’s a problem in sport and in life.

Take endurance sport for a second. In mid-2012, the entire triathlon world was buzzing about the possibility of me taking on Lance Armstrong at the Ironman World Championships in Kona. I had fallen short in my Olympic bid (that’s a story in itself, one you can read in a new chapter in the paperback version of my book) but come back to excel at my old Ironman distance. Lance had retired from cycling but done well enough at the distance to make him a credible competitor. The press ate it up! They couldn’t get enough of Lance versus Macca.

Then it all fell apart. You know most of the story: the allegations of doping in the cycling world, massive evidence against Lance, his refusal to defend himself any further against charges that he took performance enhancing drugs, and his eventual ban from all endurance sports by the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency. It was a terrible end to a great career by a courageous man who inspired millions and gave hope to millions more fighting cancer. It’s cast a shadow over all endurance sports. That’s a large-scale example of how drugs ruin lives.

I also have a more personal example of the damage that one particular drug, alcohol, can do. If you’ve read my book you already know the story of my best mate Sean Maroney; if you haven’t read it, here it is. Sean was my closest friend and lifelong partner in crime. We ran triathlons together, trained together, partied together, chased girls together—did everything together. One of our great dreams was that one day, we would both compete at the Ironman World Championships in Kona. In 2002, it looked like that dream was about to come true. I had qualified for the race as a professional, and Sean had qualified as an age-grouper—that is, an amateur slotted into a group based on his age.

We were thrilled. Then tragedy struck. Sean was celebrating his qualification in Hawaii and probably drinking quite a lot, and he fell from his hotel balcony and was killed. Do I know for certain that alcohol was involved? No, but I think it’s pretty likely that it was. Sean was certainly not an alcoholic, but all it took was one night of drinking too much to end his life. No death, other than that of my beloved mother, has ever hit me so hard.

So I can really appreciate the incredible work that Todd Crandell is doing. First of all, to go from being a drug addict and alcohol abuser to complete Ironmans, Ultramans and ultra-marathons is amazing. It’s difficult enough to finish those events if you’ve spent years training and taking perfect care of your body, but to become a successful endurance athlete after years of abusing your body with chemicals takes tremendous talent, an iron will and a level of commitment that’s hard to believe.

But after reading Todd’s story, watching his documentary, and seeing what he’s doing with his Racing for Recovery organization and support group, it’s clear to me that he’s doing something that most triathletes never do: making a real difference in the lives of others.

By and large, we triathletes are a selfish bunch. Our sport demands it; we train and travel and do sponsor appearances and focus on our own needs because that’s what we need to do to survive, win races and support our families. Sure, you might see a top-level endurance athlete write a book or start a charitable foundation or maybe create a training camp to teach young athletes about triathlon, but that’s usually about as far as it goes. Triathlon demands that you be self-obsessively focused.

Todd’s focus is mostly not on himself but on other people. He gives of his time and his passion and his heart—not only to help the people who come to him as an addictions counselor and who attend the Racing for Recovery support group meetings, but to help anyone who contacts him. Because his speaking, documentary, ESPN appearances and Facebook page have made him so visible, many people seeking help with their addictions have reached out to him. Todd responds to every one of them quickly and compassionately, offering advice and guidance and compassion.

He estimates that Racing for Recovery has impacted more than 50,000 lives since its beginnings. That’s huge. That’s thousands of lives saved, thousands of families reunited, thousands of children who still have their parents, and thousands of people introduced to the healthy lifestyle of swim/bike/run, who are living lives of fitness and vitality that a few years ago, they would have thought impossible. I’ll go out on a limb and say that in his work, Todd has made as much of a positive difference in this world as Lance Armstrong with his Livestrong Foundation, and he’s done it without fanfare, sponsors or TV coverage. He’s done it because he cares and because he knows that when you’re lucky enough to come back from the brink, you have a responsibility to share with others the gifts you’ve received.

I hope one day to meet Todd Crandell in person, shake his hand, and tell him, Well done, mate. Because drugs and alcohol may have the power to ruin lives, but compassion and dedication can save them.

Cheers!

Chris Macca McCormack

Sydney, Australia

When I read Todd’s book, more pieces of my own son’s passing fell into place. This book does us all a service...and I am grateful.

Nancy Layne McCallum

Mother of Layne Staley, Alice in Chains (1967-2002)

www.layne-staley.com

Introduction

It was December 2009, and I was in my garage, thinking about hanging myself.

I had just finished my second Ultraman triathlon. In case you don’t know, an Ultraman is much more punishing than an Ironman: a 6.2-mile swim, 261.4-mile bike ride and 52.4-mile double marathon spread out over three days. Just finishing is the achievement of a lifetime. I had filmed a second documentary about my life, Running With Demons, following up ADDICT, which came out in 2003. I had my counseling license and 16 years of sobriety and was using them to help others kick their addictions to drugs and alcohol. I had published my story of overcoming my own addiction in my first book, Racing For Recovery: From Addict to Ironman. I had been on ESPN and people were regularly emailing me to tell me how I had inspired them. On the surface my life was on the uptick. I had every reason to feel great about myself.

Yet there I was, giving serious thought to climbing onto a chair, tying a nylon rope around my neck, and kicking the chair out from under my feet. Immediately, my carotid and vertebral arteries and jugular vein would be constricted, blocking the flow of blood to my brain, and my windpipe would be choked off. With any luck, the lack of blood flow would cause me to black out before I asphyxiated. Otherwise, I would be conscious for five to ten minutes as anoxia slowly made my brain shut down and die. Either way, it wouldn’t be a pretty picture for whoever found me.

I’m writing this book, so obviously I didn’t go through with suicide. But the agony and despair that I felt continue to dog me to this day. They are the product of my dysfunctional marriage, my own mistakes, and the fact that I have never had the best set of emotional tools for dealing with life’s setbacks. My mother committed suicide when I was four years old by running her Pontiac Bonneville into a bridge abutment. That had a devastating impact on me. I handled it with drugs, girls and inflicting emotional damage on myself in more ways than I can count. From 1980 to 1993, I medicated away life’s pain by abusing drugs and alcohol in horrific ways, or as I wrote in my first book,

Over the course of a 13-year battle with alcohol and drugs, I nearly killed myself and a few other people along the way. I lost everything I had—my family, a promising sports career, my self-respect and yes, nearly my life. I had a gun in my mouth and a foot in the grave. I was in jail and I was in deep shit.

I had to fall to the bottom of the bottomless pit before I realized that I had to dig my way out or wind up dead—or worse, to take other people with me into a hell of depression, pain and anger. Then, in 2009, with everyone around me assuming I had it all together, I found myself facing the climb out of the abyss again, like Bruce Wayne in The Dark Knight Rises. Clearly, I had more work to do on myself. Clearly, I would continue (and do continue to this very moment) to battle my tendency toward self-blame, self-hatred and hopelessness.

But there is one thing that I will never, ever do again:

I will never use again to deal with life’s pain.

That idea and that pledge are the heart and soul of this book.

Where I’m Coming From

In my work as a licensed addictions counselor, I have had many clients tell me that in all the years they have sought help and tried to kick their addictions, no one has ever asked the questions that I ask. First, I’m flattered. Then appalled. Why is no one addressing what I consider to be the most basic, essential truth behind addiction? That truth:

We use drugs or alcohol to numb ourselves to some deep emotional pain from our past.

Take a second and sit with that idea. If you are struggling with addiction right now (and if you are, I feel for you), find a moment of clarity and think about when you started using. If you’re honest with yourself, you’re going to find that you started because you were in emotional agony and shooting up was easier than manning up. Ninety percent of the people I encounter have used drugs to deal with a bone-deep emotional pain.

I started using because I felt that my mother had abandoned me. That guy over there started because his father beat the crap out of him. This girl right here starting doing coke because her parents rejected her after she came out in college. That dude fakes prescriptions to get more Oxycontin because his mother left the family when he was nine years old. The list of causes goes on and on and on. Again and again, I have seen this pattern repeat itself:

1. Addict hits bottom and decides to get clean.

2. Addict goes to AA or some other resource and quits using, but the underlying pain remains unaddressed.

3. After a while, addict returns to using to deal with life’s emotional struggles.

4. Repeat.

The cycle only ends when the addict sits down with someone like me and owns up to the pain that the drugs or booze are medicating. Dealing with that pain, whether it’s abandonment, abuse, anxiety or something else, can also mean seeing a psychotherapist. But in the end, if the addict faces up to his or her pain and learns new ways of dealing with it, it is possible to wave a permanent goodbye to the horrors of the addicted life. I see people do it every day.

None of us is immune to life’s hardships. I’m certainly not. People who fall into substance abuse typically lack healthy mechanisms and strategies for handling emotional pain, so instead of using affirmations or a spiritual practice to