Dudick met Anna, his second wife, during this time. A native of Cincinnati and a University of Indiana graduate, Anna followed a boyfriend to Breckenridge in 1998, just as Grand Timber Lodge was finding its footing in the timeshare vacation destination business. Her first job was at the front desk of Grand Timber Lodge, where over the years she worked her way up. During the course, she and Mike met, fell in love and were married in 2005. They have a son together, Henry, now 13.

Dudick describes life during those heady times, when everything was falling into place for him personally, and for BGV: “The company had a ‘let’s work hard and party harder’ kind of culture,” he begins. “When BGV started taking off we were all in our mid to late 30’s, early 40’s. We were bulletproof, things were great, everyone was having a good time, the business was successful, we had great employees. We knew the success of our company would be determined by the positive impact it had on our owners and guests, employees and the community, so we all worked hard to make that happen; we focused on success and getting things done. That said, everyone around here knew when it was five o’clock. We would go across the street, have a couple on the way home — that kind of thing.”

“Age was on my side at that point, just being able to process alcohol, then get up to fight another day,” he continues. “It was an ‘exhale’ period, with my kids getting older and knowing the business had the infrastructure to be on cruise control. I actively participated in the good- time culture that we had created.”

The sad and sudden heart attack death in 2015 of Rob Millisor shook the community as well as the company. Rob’s untimely death created a new leadership of two co-owners – Mike Millisor and Mike Dudick, with Dudick taking on the CEO role and day-to-day leadership of the Breckenridge company. Much has been done by BGV since Rob’s death to advance heart health research in the high-country. An annual fundraiser that bears his name was launched in 2016 by the charitable arm of BGV — called BGV Gives, which also gives generously to hundreds of nonprofits across the county and region, including Building Hope. The company also has an emotional wellness component for its employees, BGV Minds, that provides ongoing access, resources and education in support of living a balanced and healthy lifestyle both physically and mentally.

Rob’s death had a deep impact on Dudick. “The three of us had spent all our time together; we worked together, vacationed together as families, went to dinner together, watched all our kids grow up. We were very tight.”

“For most people, there is this period when you know you need to change but you just don’t do it. Often someone else
will intervene – whether it’s a judge or a spouse or a parent.  My family finally said, ‘you need to stop’ and I said, ‘you’re right I do.’
I didn’t fight. I knew it was coming …”

Dudick’s drinking increased after Rob’s death, but he doesn’t link it to that as much as being a victim of the success the three of them created. “I found myself with more time on my hands because of all the competent people that as a team we had put in place. I was able to come in on a limited basis, steer the ship the way I wanted it steered, and leave.”

As his free time grew, so did his alcohol consumption. “Mike was a highly functioning alcoholic,” Anna says. “He didn’t have bottles in his desk drawer; he could get through the day, but when he got home, he put the pedal to the metal. And to be clear, I was drinking more then too. But I have a ‘stop’ button that Mike doesn’t have. I don’t think I recognized how bad it was until it stopped.”

When asked just how much he drank, Dudick says, “I only know that I drank more than anyone around me, easily. In a party crowd, I was easily the biggest consumer, hands down. I drank a lot. I didn’t have to worry about what time I woke up and what condition I was in the next morning. I didn’t have anything to slow me down. There was no one to fire me, no consequence. I was in a unique situation. I had responsibility, but I told myself that drinking wasn’t impacting my ability to fulfill my responsibilities. It never got to the point where I denied my responsibilities, I just always felt like I could manage them.”

Until he couldn’t. His wake-up call came in the form of a black-out evening of drinking in October 2018. The following morning, he couldn’t remember anything from the night before. “With alcohol, I didn’t have an on and off switch. I didn’t have a rheostat that lets me monitor my drinking. I got to a point where I thought I could hurt myself or someone else by doing something stupid.

“For most people, there is this period when you know you need to change but you just don’t do it. Often someone else will intervene – whether it’s a judge or a spouse or a parent. My family finally said, ‘you need to stop’ and I said, ‘you’re right I do.’ I didn’t fight. I knew it was coming. There was no sit-down drama like on reality shows. This was my moment. I wanted to stop.”

He started treatment two days later at an Alcoholics Anonymous-based 12-step program in Colorado Springs, but found frustration in both the facility and the program. “AA’s socialized way to identify is to say, ‘Hi I’m Mike, I’m an alcoholic,’ as if that defines me. While one definition of me is that I’m a recovering alcoholic, that does not define Mike Dudick. Say I’m overweight. If I went and lost 30 pounds I wouldn’t walk around saying, ‘Hi, I’m Mike, I used to be fat.’” We both laugh. “You shouldn’t have to wear a scarlet letter that pronounces who you used to be.”

When asked about his sobriety date, Dudick flusters. “I don’t know, you want me to check my calendar?” he asks, himself a little curious (it’s two years October 14). “That goes to the 12-Step approach to stopping. 12-Step works for a lot of people, but on a daily basis you’re reminded of how long you’ve been sober, and if you stop being sober for a day you have to start all over again. It confirms the idea that you’re always thinking about the last drink and can’t wait to have another, and that’s not where I’m at.”

At the same time, he vigorously defends AA. “There needs to be a judgment-free zone about it,” he says. “Whatever works for the individual works. My father and many friends are devoted AA members; they get to hang out with like-minded people and find support in their community and it works great for them, and millions of people around the world, but it didn’t work for me, and that’s ok. There are many paths to recovery, no one size fits all. If it’s the 12-Step program, awesome. Put as many tools in your tool chest; give yourself a fighting chance.”

Anna worked to find an alternative treatment center and after two weeks in Colorado Springs, Dudick transferred to Atlanta-based Accelerated Recovery Center, an in-patient treatment program devoted solely to alcohol dependence.  According to its website, Accelerated Recovery “provides the only comprehensive, research-based treatment program in the United States that is focused exclusively on the successful, long term treatment of alcohol abuse and dependence. Accelerated’s treatment programs are based on medical and clinical science and provide a rare alternative to 12-Step based treatment.”

Accelerated offers five, 12 and 19-day programs. Dudick stayed for 12 days and was grateful for both the brevity, and for what he considered effective treatment.

For Anna, it was the initial question they asked that impressed her about the place: Are you ready to unconditionally move forward and not talk about the past anymore? “It took me a little bit because I had anger about the past, but I realized there’s no point in that. Mike couldn’t change it, he couldn’t control it. We just needed to move forward.”

Dudick spent eight hours/day for two weeks in intensive education and therapy, learning about the disease and receiving counseling and therapy, “talking through life and learning about the disease from a science-based perspective.”  He was put on two medications – Naltrexone and Baclofen. One stopped the cravings, the other reduced anxiety around not drinking. “That kind of program made a lot of sense to me,” he says. “Together with the medication and the therapy, it re-wires your brain to stop the nagging, ‘is it five o’clock yet’?”

He also learned a lot about how alcohol changes your brain. “With addiction, the opioid receptors in your brain are saying give me more, and there’s a sort of shock absorber, which is your brain’s ability to reason and negotiate – that gets smaller and smaller, until you end up in a really messed up place. Your brain craves more and you have less and less ability to say no to the urge.” Finally, his failed negotiating skills with alcohol made sense to him.