COMMENTARY

Running for his life and lives of others

2/1/2015

Todd Crandell is an immensely likeable and totally admirable young man — a local hero if ever there was one. He is a former addict who cleaned himself up and has now competed in 26 Ironman competitions.

He now devotes himself to telling his story and trying to help other addicts, with a program he has invented called Racing for Recovery. That story, which he retells as a motivational speaker, in two books he has written, and in two documentaries, is absolutely compelling.

Racing for Recovery itself is a program still evolving, and I think it is far from a comprehensive treatment program. But it has two elements that I think are brilliant: action and inclusion.

Mr. Crandell’s story has been told many times: He grew up in a seemingly normal home, though his natural mother died young of addiction, in an eventual suicide. He didn’t know that when he was becoming a star hockey player in Sylvania, or later, when he became, in his words, “the town dirt-bag.” But when he discovered his mother's story, he felt it explained not only his own predisposition toward addiction but “the hole in my soul.”

He was destined for a career in professional hockey. The only place he felt at home in the world was on the ice. But his profound loneliness and isolation when off the ice put him on a parallel track. By the time he was in high school, he was a full-blown drunk and addict. He was kicked off the hockey team, expelled from high school, and then commenced a decade of hazed debauchery. He can’t even remember it all and does not want to. He abused his body, engaged in much risky and selfish behavior, and covered himself in self-loathing. He told me he was sitting drunk and alone on a beach in the rain on Christmas Day one year when the thought occurred to him for the first time: How did I get to this place in life? I really wasn’t counting on this.

Still, it wasn’t until much later that he decided to quit. Cold turkey. And he went to AA. But it wasn’t AA that saved him. It was running. And then, Ironman competitions. He had watched a TV report on Ironmen, and even though he was a physical mess at the time — he was still using — thought: I want to do that one day. He could barely swim at the time.

Over time, he literally substituted one addiction for another: Fitness for drugs. Running for using. Ironman for coke head and lush.

But then he discovered that his story spoke to other people. Not everyone can talk their way out of addiction, or be talked out. Some people need to move. Especially young people.

Racing for Recovery has special resonance for young people. The program consists of counseling (Todd has become a licensed therapist), open group meetings like one I attended at the Sylvania United Church of Christ, but, most important, physical activities, which members undertake together. Many run. Some do Ironman competitions. One night I met about five Racing for Recovery members, all kids, really, coming out of a very challenging power yoga class.

To me, this is the single most powerful thing Mr. Crandell has going for him, even more than his own story: Members of the group are not only there for each other, as in most support groups, but they hang out together and do things together — positive physical activities that fill a void both natural and mental.

They move and move together.

As great as AA is, this is a component that neither it nor any other recovery program has: action, physical fitness, health. Instead of talk about past regrets, more talk, coffee, and cigarettes: motion — moving the body, the bloodstream, and, eventually, the life forward.

Racing for Recovery emphasizes the present and the future over the past.

Motion over analysis.

Active community over verbal support.

It’s a fresh approach.

At a meeting I attended, Mr. Crandell said: “No one is a failure, Just someone who hasn’t succeeded yet.”

That might sound kind of goofy to some. But it is also kind of beautiful.

He has a second core idea that I think is good: Meetings are for the family AND the addict — drunk and friend and life partner, all together. They are not separated. The addict has to confront the pain he has caused. A parent or spouse must confront the pain he has caused in the addict.

Where I think Racing for Recovery really needs to grow and mature is in the clinical area. It needs some professionals, some science, and some structure behind it. AA is not perfect and for some it relies too much on faith and self-surrender, but it has a track record and a profound depth to it. Mr. Crandell’s patter is sometimes cliche-laden and a bit shallow. He’s not a talker or thinker, and it shows. Moreover, the whole program relies on him. Unless you are Jesus or Gandhi, that can’t be sustained. And it is not smart to try. No one person is that strong or that wise.

There were two telling moments at the open meeting I attended:

One was when a young man said: People who think addiction only affects a precious few of us are either ignorant or lying to themselves. Every family in America is touched by addiction.

He is dead right.

There are 23 million addicts in America. Do the math.

The other was when a women who was there for the first time said she and loved ones had just done an intervention on someone close to her. She said she had hope — for the first time in years. And she wanted to know: How do I stay strong, keep strengthening this person, avoid the pitfalls, keep this going? It was an honest and very, very moving moment. Todd, who was running the meeting, said: This is a one-hour meeting. That’s too hard a question for the last minutes of the meeting. Come back next week.

That showed me the limits of an amateur, volunteer support group. This lady needed and deserved more.

Mr. Crandell needs to get some funding and bring some serious clinicians on board. Addiction ain’t youth softball. It requires serious professional help.

But it also needs, above all else, an outstretched hand — nonjudgmental friendship, which Racing for Recovery does offer.

Along with action and movement, which I truly think is a new and important emphasis for recovery programs and can save some lives not otherwise being saved.

Todd Crandell is on to something.

Keith C. Burris is a columnist for The Blade.

Contact him at: kburris@theblade.com or 419-724-6266.