Heart of a Champion

by Patrick Lindsay

  Greg took Sian to see his great friend, local osteopath and chiropractor Kay Macpherson. Then he suggested that Sian allow herself time to recover before preparing to compete in the upcoming Australian Ironman in four or five weeks time. Sian remembers: ‘I spent a month at Greg’s parents’ house in Sydney in 1991. He invited me to come and train. Actually, he had a girlfriend there at the time. She picked me up from the airport and we stayed in the same room. We became great friends. I could tell Greg liked me. He was always flirting with me, and after training he’d go through the washing after his Mum had done it and flick my undies on the fan and things like that. But we never did anything other than that.’

  Greg and Sian teamed up as training partners and their friendship began to develop. ‘I started to appreciate how social she was. She’d drink beer with my Dad every night and had a great attitude. I was thinking, this is my dream girl.’

  Noelene also noticed that Sian adapted quickly to the local customs: ‘She came down to the local Tradies club with all the blokes, and she sat around with us drinking schooners with my brother-in-law. Sian just about drank us under the table.’

  Under Kay Macpherson’s care, Sian’s foot recovered and she competed in the Australian Ironman where she broke through with her first top ten finish, coming in fifth. Then she returned to the States and her fiancé Chip.

  Sian and Chip moved in with her parents in Los Angeles to try to save some money to establish themselves. Sian was squeezing training and competing between working at three jobs, and Chip was trying to break into Hollywood. When an opportunity in Arizona came along for Chip, they moved there.

  IT WAS THE TURNING POINT of his professional career: he made sporting history by becoming the FIRST NON-AMERICAN WORLD IRONMAN CHAMPION.

  Chapter 8

  The Making of a Champion

  AT THE SAME PARTY IN 1990 WHEN GREG FIRST MET SIAN, his mate Skillo had a long overdue change of luck too. Although he was still constricted by his halo brace, Skillo was at his flirtatious best at the party, and he was soon showing outstanding form with some of the college girls.

  Greg looked on in awe. ‘Skillo used his brace brilliantly. He looked at these girls and said, “Those bastards over there are racing and I’m stuck in this stupid thing, and God, I’m as toey as a Roman sandal, and gee, you chicks are looking all right.” Needless to say, he went off with one of the girls and he didn’t come back. I was worried about him. I was like his bloody mother at this stage. I ended up walking round the neighbourhood looking for him. I knew I had to clean his bolts because if you don’t clean the bolts, the infection grows backwards and I’d heard these horrible stories about people’s skulls blowing up. Anyway, he rocked back at 8 o’clock in the morning. “Where have you been?” “I was with that redhead. Mate, oh mate!”

  ‘He was the bloke who would pinch a pretty girl on the bum. I used to say, “You’re going to get decked one day, mate.” And sure enough, one day (after he was out of the brace) it happened, in front of my eyes. He pinched this girl’s bum and she slapped him across the face, and then the boyfriend grabbed him by the neck. I thought he was going to break it. But Skillo talked his way out of it as usual.’

  Skillo did eventually recover from his neck injuries and race again, but he never reached his earlier promise. Years later, Greg was surprised to see him on TV, extolling the virtues of yoga.

  The Aussie tribe who travelled to all the great triathlons quickly won a reputation for their ability to party and still show up ready to compete the next day. Greg’s friends from the Shire, the Southwells, were often the ringleaders. ‘I got involved with them at an early age. They taught me how to drink. They were notorious for their after-race parties.’

  The Southwells were also the life-blood of the sport. Some years back, seven members of the Southwell clan—the patriarch, Bob, then in his 70s, his five sons and a daughter-in-law—all competed in an Australian Ironman. It’s still a record. Greg knew them all like a second family: Paul, John (who married Sian’s Welsh cousin), Tony, Chris and Stephen. Greg trained and dined with them in Kona at his first Ironman in 1987. To Greg, the Southwells will always represent the fun in sport. ‘They were serious when they competed—they went out to win—but they were always the first to have fun afterward.’

  Once Greg proved he could match it with the best, especially after he won the World Triathlon Championships in 1990, sponsorship opportunities began to open up. Soon, most races came down to a contest between the best in America—Dave Scott, Mark Allen, Scott Tinley, Scott Molina, Mike Pigg and Ken Glah—and Welch, Bevan and Foster from Australia and Rick Wells from New Zealand. The Aussies’ early success attracted some resentment. ‘We got comments like: “What are you Aussies doing here, racing and getting our money?” And Brad and I would answer, “Well, we have a series, race us in Australia too. We want to live the dream. We’re living the dream here in your country. It’s wonderful, we love it, accept us. Otherwise we’ll have to kick your arse again next week.” And we did!’

  During this period, Greg developed his enduring friendships with Paula Newby-Fraser and her partner Paul Huddle. Paul was a fine triathlete and regular top-ten finisher in Hawaii. He became a friend and training partner. Paula was already firmly on the way to becoming the greatest ever woman Ironman champion when she crossed paths with Greg. ‘I almost feel that I’ve known him forever. I can’t recall the specific time when I met him. He was one of the Aussie crew. I knew quite a few of the Australians and he initially started as just part of the whole drunken partying Aussie crew I would run into here in Hawaii or at some of the big races. There was nothing that really distinguished him when I first met him. He was one of the Aussies.

  ‘It was his skills that brought him to everyone’s notice. He was the little Australian who could run like the wind. Then, all of a sudden, Greg was this blip on the radar that got bigger and bigger, and he started to connect with some of the other Australians I knew. He hooked up with my manager Murphy Reinschreiber, and he became part of the family. All of a sudden we would be going to races together. I would be set up for a race and Greg would be too.’

  Before they headed to the States as pros, Greg and Brad Bevan had been managed by Sydney based sporting equipment importer Michael Dunn. Once in America, Greg realised he would need a manager who could work internationally. But his introduction to his future manager and friend Murphy Reinschreiber came unexpectedly. ‘I was doing my urine drug test after winning the 1990 Worlds in September and Murphy, who managed the sixth place finisher Rob Mackle, was there, because you had to have a chaperone. He said, “Do you have an agent? I look after Paula Newby-Fraser, and…blah, blah, blah.” I said, “OK, let’s talk.”’

  At that stage Greg had one sponsor, a company with the curious name of Mrs. T’s Pierogies, a deal organised by his first manager Michael Dunn. Tim Twardzik, the owner of Mrs. T’s, took a punt on Greg, almost sight unseen—even before Greg learnt that pierogies were European dumplings that Mrs. T’s mass produced in Shenandoah, Pennsylvania, as a fast food. Greg’s relationship with Tim Twardzik would endure for the rest of his career. It began when Tim hosted the Australian team for the Orlando Worlds at a race in his home state in the first week of September and took them to the Mrs. T’s factory for a huge shindig.

  After their meeting at the 1990 Worlds, Murphy Reinschreiber would represent Greg and organise his sponsorships throughout his career. A lawyer as well as a manager, Murphy was able to write contracts as well as negotiate deals. Greg was clearly marketable and the sponsorships started kicking in. Once he was in Murphy’s hands, Greg’s earnings started to improve. He was soon pulling six figures and his income increased over the years as his personal fame grew and triathlon took off as a sport. ‘My biggest year I think was in the $US400 000s somewhere. I would have been making about AU$20 000 as a plasterer. I soon figured out I’d made the right choice!’

  From their first meeting, Greg was drawn to Paula as a friend and as an athlete. He resp
ected her extraordinary work ethic and tried to emulate her approach. Paula was always amused by this. ‘Greg would sometimes say, “I’m just trying to learn from you because you’re the best at what you do.” But when push came to shove, he didn’t really do what I was doing, if you know what I mean. When it came to the last 10 per cent, which really made the difference, he didn’t do it and I think he knew he wasn’t doing it.

  ‘We used to talk about all the vital things he needed to do. But he didn’t totally clean up his diet, he didn’t quit drinking. He’d drink coffee all day, pumping up on caffeine to get a work-out done when he knew he shouldn’t. That continued until the time came when he felt that he was ready. He finally decided that he really wanted it, that he was sick of listening to Dave Scott and Mark Allen, and because he knew he could beat them and that they were afraid of him.’

  One of Greg’s great early milestones came the next year when he beat Mark Allen for the first time. In the first 1991 World Cup race of the season—over a 2-km (1.2-mile) swim, 64-km (39.8-mile) ride and 15-km (9.3-mile) run—he hoped to be the one to break Allen’s 20-race winning streak. But Greg forgot his racing shoes and didn’t realise it until he reached the transition from the bike to the run. He had to run in his training shoes, which had shoelaces instead of the usual quick-entry elastic. Greg wasted precious seconds tying his shoes. He finished strongly but not before Mike Pigg ran down Mark Allen to end his winning streak.

  But Greg only had to wait another week for his first win over the great champion. He won the next race, at St Croix in the Caribbean. It was an occasion to relish because beating Mark Allen was always a massive achievement. Paula felt he could have achieved this milestone earlier if he’d had a stronger self-belief and discipline. ‘Greg knew deep down that he could do it, but it was almost as if he was afraid to. Those guys were so much his icons. They were his heroes. It was almost as if Greg was afraid to beat his heroes. He didn’t want to beat them because then that whole mirage would shatter for him and he would have to become an icon. I don’t think he felt he deserved that. It was almost as if he sabotaged himself because he didn’t want that.’

  Mark Allen’s approach to racing and competing was vastly different to Greg’s. The Zen Master always carefully selected the races in which he competed, and he prepared assiduously for each. In contrast, Greg raced whenever he could. His first year of pro races would be the start of 22 seasons of racing back to back. ‘I raced the ’88 season in Australia, went to Ironman, then the ’89 season in Australia, races in Europe, the ’90 season in Australia, the ’90 season in America, ’91 both seasons, ’92 to ’99 both seasons. It was 22 or 23 seasons without a break. The biggest break I ever had was about six weeks away from racing and that was after the Ironman.’

  In fact, racing simply became Greg’s life. ‘I enjoyed everything about it. I loved to race. I just wanted to get out there and race. I was competitive. I didn’t think that it was harming me or anything, and it wasn’t at that stage, because I was young and I could recover. I could just keep pushing the envelope. Adrenalin was my greatest friend!’

  Paula saw him drawn into the obsessive world of triathlon. ‘Greg is an individual of real excesses. He has an excess of talent and he was excessive in everything he did. He really had a hard time finding a balance. But he wasn’t helped by the nature of what we do. It is excessive, to the point of ill health. I mean, what we do makes us great athletes. We become very fit but we’re not necessarily healthy, in body or in mind. You become compulsive about things. We may be incredibly fit but health is a very relative term in this sport.’

  Like Paula, Greg learnt to live with a depressed immune system caused by the constant stress of training and recovery and competing. He learnt how to push through his injuries and how to manage his body when it began to break down. Greg was able to patch himself up and get back into competition. He became one of many compulsive participants in a sport that rewarded the most obsessive. In achieving his goals, he was also driven by his need to be with his friends.

  Paula saw this as a double-edged sword. ‘It’s a participation sport, so Greg gets to be with people all the time. As good an athlete as he was, he was a greater friend. His friends were really drawn to him. There were so many fun times and everybody wanted that side of Greg. His core group of friends loved that friendly side almost to the point of selfishness. Often they didn’t back away and let him go and do what he needed to do because they always wanted to be with him. He responded because he didn’t want to let them down. As a pro, sometimes you do have to be selfish, but Greg didn’t like that. His friends didn’t want him to be selfish and they sometimes made him feel guilty, I think.’

  Greg established a routine. At the beginning of the week, Monday and Tuesday, he took it easy and allowed his body to recover from the weekend’s racing. He increased the tempo on Wednesday, had another easy day on Thursday, did some pick-ups where he would speed up over shorter periods on Friday, had an easy day on Saturday and raced again on Sunday. He usually raced every fortnight, often six or seven races in a row.

  He began to vary his training in the States. In 1991, he noticed how Dave Scott, Mark Allen, Scott Tinley, Scott Molina, Paul and Paula and Erin Baker were all training at altitude. So he followed them to Boulder, Colorado. There, he trained with them, watched and learnt.

  In particular, Greg observed Mark Allen—how he trained, what he ate. He joined the group on a five-day bike odyssey they called the Tour de Trout (because it involved a loop around the trout-fishing region of Colorado). The first day was a 220-km (136.7-mile) ride through the mountains from Boulder to Vail.

  They’d reached Idaho Springs, about 80 km (50 miles) into the ride. It was hot, and they stopped at a general store. It was one of the first times Greg had ever trained with Mark Allen. He stood back and watched what the great man bought and then bought the same. Mark Allen bought chocolate milk. ‘I was thinking, “What the hell’s he doing with chocolate milk on a beautiful day in the mountains?” I soon realised—milk, fat, chocolate, sugar. When you’re losing your muscle, you need your fat stores to kick in and you need a little bit of sugar just to pep you up a bit.’

  Greg noted that Mark wouldn’t eat chips or fast food. He would stick to energy bars and unprocessed food: salmon, vegetables and fruit. If he ate a few chips, it would be for their salt. Greg watched every move that Mark made. At night he checked out what and how he ate and drank. When the others had a few beers, he saw Mark avoided them. Greg decided he had to draw the line somewhere: ‘No beers—that was just Mark. I didn’t think that a couple of beers would hurt me!’

  Mark’s then wife, Julie Moss, the college girl who had crawled into legend at the 1982 Ironman, followed the group on their rides. Mark had seen gut-churning footage of Julie’s struggle to the line and it had inspired him to take up the sport. Years later, they married. Now Julie cooked for Mark and the others on the Tour de Trout and also ferried their gear as they climbed over 3500-m (11 483-ft) peaks and swam and ran in the mountains. It was the perfect way to kick-start their Ironman training and an unparalleled way for Greg to see the wonders of Colorado.

  ‘I learnt so much every day. We were riding back-to-back days and I hadn’t done this before. Day 1 was about 220 km (136.7 miles) in the mountains, over about 2000 m (6562 ft) in altitude. Eight hours in the saddle. We’d get to Vail and we’d go for a little jog, get up in the morning, swim 4 km (2.5 miles) in a pool at almost 3000 m (9842 ft), then go back for breakfast, which Julie made.’

  From Vail, the group rode down to Minturn, up through Leadville, which at 3000 m (9842 ft) is the highest city on the US mainland. They were to cross the Rockies through Independence Pass, and take the twisting, 40-km (25-mile) descent into Aspen. It was an extremely tough climb. Halfway up, Greg’s nose started to bleed.

  ‘At altitude, your nasal passages can dry out. My face was bloody. I got to the top, and Tinley and I stopped. Mark went on and soon was way ahead. We’d dropped everyone else and
on the descent, Tinley and I raced each other the whole way down. It was fantastic. We did 175 km (108.7 miles) racing. This was the first time I’d ever ridden two 150-km (93-mile) plus days in a row. We had 400 km (248.5 miles) under our belts in two days, plus the running and swimming.’

  Scott Tinley had organised accommodation at a Hollywood director friend’s Aspen lodge. Thanks to his nose bleed, Greg arrived looking like a victim in a horror movie. But, after cleaning up and cooling down in the chilly mountain stream that ran through the property, he and the others still had the energy to head off for a jog. The next day, which the group had planned as a free day, Greg and Paul Huddle went for a 20-km (12.4-mile) run and then traversed the mountain on their bikes, riding 80 km (50 miles) along the track to Glenwood Springs, where the others met them for a dip in a huge natural hot spring. They relaxed in it for about two hours and then drove to Winter Park where they did their last two days training.

  ‘That week was so much fun! Then at the end of the Tour de Trout, there was another World Cup race in Toronto. So after our trip—after I’d ridden 800 km (497.1 miles) or more, run who knows what and swum, Brad came and picked me up and we drove to Denver Airport, flew to Toronto and did a race up there. He won, I got second. But I was on fire, because my body was just turning. I was just getting used to all this stuff. Now I could see how those Tour de France guys could do it.’

  Training sessions like the Tour de Trout alerted Greg to the demands to which competitors like Mark Allen were subjecting their bodies. Once he knew that he too was capable of training at those levels of intensity, he raised his sights. ‘I realised that if you didn’t know what your body was capable of doing, you wouldn’t be able to become a real champion.’