HEART of
a CHAMPION
The Greg Welch Story
PATRICK LINDSAY
First published in 2006 by Pier 9, an imprint of Murdoch Books Pty Limited
www.murdochbooks.com.au
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National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of Australia.
Author: Lindsay, Patrick.
Title: Heart of a champion [electronic resource] : the Greg Welch story / Patrick Lindsay.
Subjects: Welch, Greg, 1964-Athletes--Australia--Biography. Triathlon.Ironman triathlons.
Dewey Number: 796.4257092
ISBN: 9781742660721 (ebook : epub )
Text copyright © Patrick Lindsay 2006
Design copyright © Murdoch Books Pty Limited 2006
Cover image © Rich Cruse/richcruse.com
Every effort has been made to contact copyright holders for the images in this book. The publisher would be grateful if notified of any corrections that should be incorporated in future reprints or editions.
For Lisa, Nathan, Kate and Sarah
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Introduction
1 - Top of the World
2 - The Astronauts of Sport
3 - The Endless Summer
4 - A New Start
5 - Richie
6 - Plucky
7 - The Pro
8 - The Making of a Champion
9 - A Natural Out
10 - 1999
11 - Heart of a Champion
12 - Heartache
13 - Dark Days
14 - Fightback
15 - Friends
Greg Welch Career Highlights
Ironman World Championships
Index
Acknowledgments
Introduction
I MET GREG WELCH IN 1987. It was the day before he competed in his first Hawaiian Ironman race at Kona. I was reporting on the event for the Nine Network’s Wide World of Sports. Greg was pointed out as a young Aussie with great promise—a 22-year-old plasterer from Sydney’s west, living his sporting dream by competing against his heroes. He was wide-eyed with wonder at the event, the location and the remarkable athletes he was competing against.
It was the first time I had covered the Hawaiian Ironman. I was astonished by the physical challenge of the event. To me it was pushing sport well into its red zone. In addition, Kona’s climate seemed an absurd location for such an extreme test. I bought a thermometer and laid it on the tarmac of the Queen K Highway during the bike ride and the run. It read 51ºC (124ºF).
I remember thinking how slightly built Greg was and how he fairly bubbled with enthusiasm and humour. He carried himself with humility, but I recognised a quiet confidence and steely determination beneath his larrikin façade. He was a rare individual: a natural gentleman and a natural sportsman.
In a world where sporting champions are increasingly produced by the ‘hothouses’ of sports institutes, with their scientific selection schemes and space age training systems and coaching, Greg Welch is a throw-back. He became a champion while still holding down a full-time job—drawing on his natural talents and a superhuman training regimen.
Greg finished that first race by surprising all the experts. He came home 45th overall, out of 1381 competitors, and won an automatic qualification for the following year. It was the first of a career full of surprises for the little battler who soon became known as ‘Plucky’.
Over the years, I followed his career from afar and was delighted when he finally broke through in 1994 to become the first non-American to win the Hawaiian Ironman. It was one of the great Australian sporting achievements: the Hawaiian Ironman World Championship is the Everest of triathlon and the Americans had held off all comers for 15 years.
Greg chalked up more than 100 triathlon victories over all distances during a career in which he established himself as arguably his sport’s greatest all-rounder. There seemed no challenge that Plucky wouldn’t attempt or couldn’t beat. In the mid-1990s, 60 Minutes named him ‘the world’s fittest man’.
Leading up to the Sydney Olympics, I joined the Seven Network’s broadcast team and looked forward to seeing Greg win the first triathlon Olympic gold medal in his home town. He seemed certain to go into the Games ranked number one in the world over the Olympic distance, and to line up in Sydney as an unbackable favourite and ride the emotional support of his home crowd to gold.
Like his many supporters around the world, I was shattered when I heard that Plucky had suffered a life-threatening heart condition during the 1999 Hawaiian Ironman. Unbelievably, he would not only miss out on the fairytale ending to his career but he would also face an uncertain future.
Initially, Greg seemed to be fully in control of his medical condition. I worked with him at the Sydney Games as he commentated on the triathlon events. He seemed to be the same old Plucky, all optimism and sparky humour.
But over the next few years I began to hear reports that Plucky was really struggling with his health. I had no idea how dark his world had become until I went with him to the 2004 Hawaiian Ironman. There I heard first-hand how, in chasing his Olympic dream, he’d pushed his long-suffering body past its breaking point. Greg’s heart condition inexorably worsened. He was forced to have a pacemaker and defibrillator implanted. By 2003 the world’s fittest man was a timid couch potato, terrified to move from one room to another for fear of triggering another shock from his defibrillator.
Greg’s story transcends sport. Heart of a Champion is the tale of a battler who climbs to the top of one of the toughest sports on earth. With his lifelong dream at his fingertips, it is snatched away…along with his health…and almost his life. But at his lowest ebb, Greg’s true character shone through. Drawing on his unquenchable inner spirit, he fought back. It was his toughest challenge…and his greatest victory.
Patrick Lindsay
Through THE ROAR OF THE CROWD, he hears the booming voice of the perennial Ironman finishline commentator, MIKE REILLY: ‘GREG WELCH ... you are the Ironman Champion!’
Chapter 1
Top of the World
AS HE LINES UP FOR THE START of the 1994 Hawaiian Ironman World Championships, 29-year-old Greg Welch feels unusually calm. Outwardly, he’s his usual bubbly self, chatting amiably with the other starters as they mill around Kalakeakua Beach. But inwardly, he feels a strange, almost out-of-body serenity. He isn’t even thinking about winning. In fact, he’s happy just to be here. Nevertheless, the little larrikin from Down Under feels a powerful sense of destiny.
THE PREVIOUS YEAR, GREG HAD FELT REALLY CONFIDENT. 1993 was to spell the end of his seven-year wait to become the first non-American Ironman champion. His lead-u
p had been the best ever. For the first time in his preparation for an Ironman competition, he’d worked out in the gym. He’d also been training on the bike with the sport’s best cyclist, Jurgen Zack. Each week, for six weeks, he’d ground out around 700 km (435 miles) on the bike, 140 km (87 miles) on the road and 30 km (18.6 miles) in the pool. Greg felt he’d done the work and deserved the reward.
Ever since he’d first come to Kona in 1987, he’d had his eye on the prize. By the time Greg was lining up for the 1993 race, the toughest event in extreme sport had always been won by an American, usually a Californian. The two towering male champions, Dave Scott and Mark Allen, had won 10 of the 16 titles between them.
At his first attempt in 1987, Greg came 45th overall, fifth in his age group, and was delighted just to qualify for another try in his age group. In 1988 he improved, won his age group and came in 19th, and then in 1989 he stunned the sport by grabbing third place. From then on everyone knew Greg Welch was capable of winning the Ironman—everyone, that is, except Greg. For, although he gave everything he had each time he challenged the lava fields, deep down Greg had doubts. Even when he came second in 1991, he still didn’t believe in his heart of hearts that he could win.
But after finishing sixth in 1992, only weeks after abdominal surgery (for haemorrhoids brought on by dehydration during training at altitude), Greg approached the 1993 race with renewed confidence, buoyed by his excellent preparation and wins at both the 1992 Japan Ironman and the US National Triathlon titles. As always, he raced right up to a few weeks out from Hawaii. In 1993 he ran and won the World Duathlon Championships in Dallas. Tour de France legend Lance Armstrong was there and praised Greg’s win. But Greg was so fixated on Hawaii that he left before the Duathlon awards ceremony. Walking on air, he headed home to start tapering his training in the ten days left before Hawaii.
The day before he planned to travel to Kona in October 1993, Greg went for his normal Tuesday hit-out—a run followed by a ride to the pool at the University of California in San Diego. He swam strongly, and felt pumped as he rode home through the afternoon shadows. In fact, he felt so good that he kicked into a final surge as he got close to home.
Greg was travelling at around 45 km (28 miles) an hour when a flat-top truck heading towards him suddenly cut across the centre lines onto his side of the road. No warning. No indicator. No chance for Greg. He stood on his brakes as the driver, who was looking into the sun and thinking about the surf, turned straight across him. The driver didn’t even see the bike slam into his truck. Greg somersaulted off the bike, landed momentarily on his feet in the back of the tray and then was flung off, breaking his left knee. So much for the 1993 Ironman.
As usual, Greg found a bright side. That night he made a deal to cover the Ironman as a commentator for NBC. With an icepack on his knee, he left for Hawaii the next day. Immobilised for the first time at Kona, Greg turned the visit into a positive by carefully studying the top performers as they tackled the course. He gave himself a clinic on the Ironman. He watched how Mark Allen won his fifth successive Ironman title, breaking his own race record by almost 2 minutes to finish in 8 hours 7 minutes 45 seconds. But when he visited Allen in the medical tent after his win, he saw for himself the price of achieving that goal. The champion lay on a stretcher, barely conscious and on an IV drip, with blood seeping from his running shoes, looking like an accident victim. Yet he was the winner. Greg watched as his close friend Paula Newby-Fraser swept to her sixth title, out-thinking and out-performing her great rival Erin Baker. He watched what the top performers drank and ate, and when they did it. He studied how they looked as they tackled the various legs, how they dealt with the course and handled the conditions.
Once back home, still on crutches, the news was bad. The doctors told Greg his career was over. They said he’d be lucky to even walk without assistance again—certainly not for six months to a year. But Greg sought a second, then a third opinion. Eventually he found a specialist who told him what he wanted to hear. An orthopaedic surgeon specialising in skiing injuries in Vail, Colorado, said he wouldn’t operate but thought Greg might be able to rehabilitate his knee himself.
For once, Greg focused his considerable energy on rehabbing his knee and the supporting muscles. It was a hectic time. His wedding to fellow triathlete Sian Williams was only a couple of months away. Greg was determined not to be on crutches on his wedding day. He wasn’t. Five weeks of solid rehab later and just two weeks before the wedding, he tossed the crutches aside.
Greg married Sian on 19 December 1993. He had started jogging again that very morning. Five weeks later, he lined up for the first race in the 1994 Grand Prix series. He hadn’t even had a training swim. Sheer guts got him home in second place—and this wasn’t an Ironman race, it was all sprints, all anaerobic racing. He was back on track. More importantly, he had a different attitude to training and racing as he worked towards Ironman 1994—for the first time, Greg truly believed he could be the next Ironman champion.
AT THE 1994 IRONMAN, SLIDING INTO THE WARM WATERS off Kalakeakua Beach—known as ‘Dig Me’ Beach because it attracts so many posers—Greg is ready to put his newfound attitude into practice. He feels as if he’s watching in slow motion as his eyes sweep across the 1400 competitors moving into the water from the tiny beach. He seems to be cocooned in his own world in the gentle swell. He catches a glimpse of the Lord of the Lava himself. As usual, Dave Scott looks formidable. But Greg realises that he no longer regards Dave with awe. Greg now sees himself as a worthy challenger to the great man, and he feels he has something to prove.
Treading water with the elite starters at the front of the field, Greg remains calm. He still plays the part of the carefree joker and manages some of his normal smart-arse banter with the usual suspects. He winks at Kenny Glah, who looks psyched, and he shakes hands with Jurgen Zack as they wait for the starting gun.
Greg knows what’s before him. He knows how to approach the Ironman monster. He knows that the challenge is so enormous that no one can get their head around it in its entirety. Greg doesn’t see it as three distinct legs—swim, bike, run. He breaks it into about 20 different segments and that’s how he attacks it.
From the gun, Greg strokes hard for a few hundred metres to break away from the pack, then settles into his rhythm. He knows the routine like a mantra: start hard, warm up, find your rhythm and then focus on your stroke and direction. He knows that only the real contenders will have the guts to start a journey of 226 km (140.5 miles) with a sprint.
He understands that the key to winning is a strange amalgam of patience and gut-wrenching, soul-searching effort. Each competitor must recognise his limits yet push to the boundaries of his endurance without straying too far into the red zone. He must tick off each segment of the journey while maintaining maximum pace and constantly rehydrating and fuelling his body and, all the while, holding focus so he doesn’t drop off his efficiency rate.
Three or four hundred metres (328–437.5 yd) into the swim, Greg backs off slightly and eases into his aerobic threshold. He’s up with the leading group and on cruise control. He sees the red roofs of the Kona Inn shops off to his left and knows he’s swum around 600 m (0.4 miles). Next, he focuses on the strange ski-jump-shaped roof of the old Hilton up ahead and lines up on it. When he passes it, he mentally ticks off 1 km (0.6 miles) and heads straight for the Sea Village Condominiums. He knows the turning buoys are in line with them, about 200 m (218.7 yd) offshore.
When he reaches the buoys, Greg sees he’s running fourth, behind Rip Esselstyn, Nick Croft and Alec Rukosuev, all outstanding swimmers. Heading for home, they move away from him slightly, but Greg feels strong as he looks up through the chop and picks out the distant outline of the six-storey King Kamehameha’s Kona Beach Hotel—his line to the finish and the changeover to the bike. He concentrates on holding his stroke against the creeping fatigue in his arms, and starts visualising his transition out of the water and onto the bike.
He imagines and th
en executes a swift, smooth changeover. He makes an easy exit from the water, finding his legs as he jogs up the ramp. He moves quickly through the shower to rinse off the salt water so it doesn’t become an irritant during the ride and the run. He finds his bike easily and swaps his swim cap for his helmet. No problems with the buckles, no rush, no panic, as he does his famous Welchy cowboy leap onto his Softride Power V bike, slips into his shoes and heads out of town towards the lava fields. Now he’s fixated on fuelling his body for the effort ahead.
Hard-earned experience tells Greg how vital it is to get in his nutrition after the swim. He scoffs down two sachets of a high-carbohydrate jelly while he pumps the blood into his legs and tries to take advantage of his 1 minute 20 second lead on Dave Scott out of the water. Greg clocks 50 minutes 22 seconds for the 3.86-km (2.4-mile) swim, about 30 seconds behind the leaders. Dave Scott and Kenny Glah come out together at 51 minutes 48 seconds.
It’s around 8 am as they leave the crowds behind them and race out of Kona. The simmering Hawaiian heat is already threatening. Most competitors have been up since 4 o’clock, eating but burning calories because of their pre-race adrenalin. Greg is determined to get in as much nutrition as he can in the first 40 km (25 miles) of the ride. He knows the hardest part is just ahead of him. He steels himself to confront the relentless heat of the lava fields and the infamous ho’o mumuku headwinds that will scythe off the volcanic peaks of Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea—some of the fiercest winds in the world. He comforts himself with the knowledge that when the winds kick up, they will torment every single one of the other 1500 people in the race too. And he’ll be closer to the finish than they will be.
Heart of a Champion Page 1
