Caleb Daniloff

My Intoxicant of Choice
by Caleb Daniloff

Caleb Daniloff is a Cambridge, Mass.-based writer. His memoir "Running Ransom Road: Confronting the Past One Marathon at a Time" explores how he used running to navigate sobriety.

When I describe running as my sobriety tool, some recovering alcoholics tell me I’ve simply swapped addictions and that they’ll keep an Alcoholics Anonymous chair warm for me. They miss the point.

In fact, after 15 years of chronic drinking and drug use, I found running to be a powerful healing agent — a therapist’s couch, confessional and pharmacy counter rolled into one.

Sure, when I haven’t laced up for a few days, I can get jittery, dull-minded, even depressed. Seeing another runner on a rest day can spark pangs of jealousy. And there was a time when I got caught up with the numbers — on my stopwatch, on the scale. Does that mean I’m still self-destructive, out of control? "Addiction" is such a dirty word.

But running is so transformative that it flips the term on its head. Yes, there is the swoon of endorphins, but what I’m hooked on is forward motion and progress, on overcoming and becoming. With its demand on the body and mind, there’s no room for false thoughts. I sweat out my anxieties and insecurities and parse through job and family challenges instead of drowning them in booze. Grinding out miles has never turned me into a monster, never once filled me with shame or regret.

In fact, after 15 years of chronic drinking and drug use, I found running to be a powerful healing agent — a therapist’s couch, confessional and pharmacy counter rolled into one. The head space that opened up during my predawn runs allowed me to embrace all the people I used to be, even the ugly ones, replacing callousness and narcissism with humility and clarity. My apologies to those I’d harmed were all drafted at six miles per hour.

So, yes, a trade has taken place. Instead of drawing the shades against the rising sun, I hurtle toward it. Endurance is measured in miles, not empties. I’m feeding a need for well-being. In fact, my history with addiction—the single-minded focus, the internal deal-making, the ease with solitude — contributes to my running skills and I often channel them during a marathon. The run is my go-to intoxicant, whose only hangover is weight-loss, sculpted calves and triumph. I pound it every chance I get.