Heart of a Champion

by Patrick Lindsay

  ‘We’d get on a train at 6 o’clock in the morning and we’d go home and sleep for two or three hours. Then, we’d wake up, get on a train and come back to watch the events again—16 days straight. Unreal.’

  In early October, just days after the Olympics finished, Greg and Sian flew to Hawaii for the Ironman so Greg could commentate. In typical Plucky style, he spent most of the flight in passionate conversation with a fellow passenger. ‘He was an age-group triathlete who discovered I was on the flight. He chatted to me the whole time, telling me that drugs were in the sport, and the rules were stupid and the whole world was crazy.’

  Waiting for their baggage in Honolulu, the same man hooked on to Greg again like a limpet mine. Greg was struggling at the time, feeling tired, off-colour and hanging out for bed, but he humoured the man. Greg was loading their bags into the shuttle bus when he suddenly went into v-tach. He didn’t say anything and the Limpet Mine mumbled on, all the way to the hotel.

  ‘After loading the bags into the shuttle van, I was in v-tach for about 15 minutes at the airport. Because we got in late, we had to stay overnight in Honolulu before the flight out to Kona in the morning. We registered at the hotel, hopped into bed, and I said, “Sian, I’ve been in v-tach for about an hour.” She said, “Why didn’t you tell me?” I said, “I thought I’d pop out of it.”’

  Sian ordered a taxi and took Greg straight to Honolulu’s Queen’s Hospital. At the entrance, they were confronted by a security guard with an X-ray machine. ‘The guard said, “Yes, can I help you?” I said, “I’m in vtach and need to get to the emergency room now!” “You have to go through security first!” Now, if I had taken an ambulance, I would have bypassed this. Silly me! We eventually got through and I went into the emergency room. A doctor came to see me and put the leads on and freaked out! I had been in the so-called fatal rhythm for well over an hour.

  He tried giving me nitroglycerine to break the rhythm, but that didn’t work. Eventually I coughed, because I had to, and it broke the rhythm, and I left.’

  The experience left Greg feeling wary and extremely fragile. ‘It was really weird. It started to play in my head then. I started thinking about how vulnerable I was. Sian was very worried too, and said we should go back to the States and think about having the defibrillator implanted.’

  The next day a chastened Greg went on to Kona, where he commentated without any further v-tach episodes.

  Around this time Greg and Sian were also thinking about having a family. After they married in 1993, Greg and Sian had looked to the future. Greg was almost at the peak of his career. He was earning extremely good money at the time and they decided to focus their energies on achieving their main aim—winning the Ironman. Sian was Greg’s support team, his mentor and his coach. They had talked of having children—when the time was right. They figured they would know when the time was right. In the back of his mind, Greg had thought that it would be later rather than sooner.

  Greg had always admired the way Scott Tinley and his wife Virginia juggled the rearing of two children with Scott’s eclectic athletic, business and academic career. He had observed how Mark Allen and Julie Moss had successfully blended parenting their child with Mark’s busy career commitments, and also how Dave Scott managed to combine his schedule with being a father to his three kids. He noted how they all handled the responsibilities differently. Scott and Virginia would pack up the whole family and go to Steamboat Springs, Colorado, or Boulder, Colorado. Mark had a different approach: Julie would accompany him to Boulder for half the season, and when it got down to the last five or six weeks, she would return to California so he could focus, and more importantly, sleep and rest. Dave was different again. He and Anna had three children in school in Boulder so it was difficult to move them around. Dave would take a five-or six-week trip alone somewhere in Colorado, sometimes in Steamboat, sometimes at other places at high altitude.

  Greg needed neither the solitude nor the intensity. He tended to feed off others, and found his peace in simple things such as going to the pub for dinner or just having friends over. Early in their marriage Greg and Sian realised that they wouldn’t be able to follow the other’s lead. They accepted that they would have to concentrate on their athletic careers first because of the enormous demands on their time. They understood that they wouldn’t be able to have children until their mid-30s.

  After Greg announced his retirement, he and Sian agreed that the time for kids had come. They seriously considered the risks in the light of Greg’s health problems, but decided to take a positive view and plan for a family.

  Sian fell pregnant in September of 2000, around the time of the Olympics. But she suffered an early miscarriage. ‘It was devastating for us, but we were strong and believed that this was meant to be. We tried again in early 2001 and she conceived around Ironman New Zealand time, late February, and we were extremely happy.’

  Greg’s spirits soared in anticipation of the fulfilment of one of his most cherished dreams. In the early months of Sian’s pregnancy, they were staying with Vince and Mary Williams, and both Greg and Sian relied heavily on their support. As Greg started to withdraw into himself under the burden of his illness, Sian began to feel the pressure on their relationship. ‘I just needed my parents because for a while I couldn’t lean on Greg—he wasn’t open to his hurt, his pain and all the things he was going through. He was fine when he talked to people in the outside world, but he was a different Greg to me. He was fine in the way that he didn’t ever break down, but I couldn’t give him that support and love that I wanted to.’

  It was a difficult time. Greg was increasingly unnerved by the state of his health. Sian was feeling powerful nesting instincts that were exacerbated because they weren’t living in their own home. They didn’t want to move back to San Diego so, finally, a few weeks before the baby was due, they bought a house in Van Nuys in Los Angeles, just down the street from Vince and Mary’s place. They arranged for a friend to look after their Sydney house.

  It was a day-to-day existence. They had no long-term plans. They didn’t feel social. They spent most nights with Vince and Mary. Sian says she will be forever grateful for her parents’ unstinting support at this time. ‘They were the most incredible help to us. We could go there and we were OK. They just gave us shelter and it made me feel great, and I know Greg felt we could just sit on the couch. They made dinner…for a year we didn’t make a dinner, or do grocery shopping. They did everything for us. We were just kind of like little kids. We were very lucky.’

  Greg had a major v-tach episode the night before Sian’s due delivery date on 17 November 2001. He wouldn’t come out of v-tach, so Sian had to take him to the emergency room. When they walked in, not surprisingly the staff assumed they were checking Sian in because she was so heavily pregnant.

  The next evening Greg and Sian were watching NBC’s first run of that year’s Ironman TV Special on NBC. Half an hour after the program ended, Sian’s waters broke—right on time. Greg called the hospital and they told him to wait for the contractions. They made their way to hospital and endured a difficult 26-hour labour before their daughter was delivered by caesarean section, on 19 November 2001. She was named after her maternal great-grandmother Annie May Stevens.

  Even after the birth, the dramas weren’t over. Sian explains, ‘Because the labour was so long and I lost all the fluid, Annie ended up with an infection and had to be taken to ICU on her second day of life. We were extremely scared at first, but after we learnt that she was going to be fine it was OK. It actually gave Greg an opportunity to go home and rest at night for the following week, which he desperately needed after the whole ordeal the day before the birth.’

  The days were spent by Annie’s side. But one visit did not go as planned: on the way to the hospital, Greg crashed into v-tach. ‘I think I drank too much crap that day—diet colas and sugar drinks. I went into the emergency room while Sian visited Annie.’

  Annie was soon back home, and although t
he proud new father was swept up in the wonder and emotion that came with his baby girl, it was the start of some of his darkest days. He was stricken with a fear that he would not live to see Annie grow up. Anticipating the attacks began to make him feel anxious. The fear became constant and Sian began to feel his withdrawal.

  ‘I’ve never been able to settle for distant Greg. I’ve always had to pull that from him. Something so traumatic had happened to him that it changed so many things in his life. I could not understand why he wasn’t turning to me or anyone else.

  ‘Everyone used to tell me, “Sian, he’s so awesome in the way he handles this.” That didn’t make me feel good, I just felt kind of angry. Reality took a long time to set in for Greg. Reality set in with me right away. It was devastating to me. At first it wasn’t to him, because he’s a happy person. He’s so satisfied. He feels so lucky to have had the experience he’s had. I fell in love with Greg, not the triathlete Greg, but Greg. And lucky I did, because that’s why marriages don’t work. People fall in love with the public persona, not the person. Both of us are who we are and if it happened to me instead of Greg, we would have come out of it because we love each other.’

  Sian returned to her studies, starting by completing her prerequisites for nursing. She would leave for lectures in the morning and return mid-afternoon most days. Feeling stranded in Los Angeles, Greg took up golf so he could get some exercise. He started by carrying his bag, but he soon found that was too much for him. His mother-in-law Mary bought him a buggy for Christmas that year and he switched to it. ‘Golf was my outlet, my only outlet. I didn’t have any friends up there in Los Angeles, and I was reluctant to make any. I suppose at that point I wanted more than anything to be back in San Diego.’

  Sian then went on to finish her prerequisites for studying psychology. ‘Sian is a very smart woman and I was even more blown away by her drive. I guess I realised that she wasn’t going to be a stay-at-home mum. Like her mother, she has way too much energy.’

  About three months after Annie’s birth, Greg and Sian spoke again about implanting a defibrillator. Sian was very keen for Greg to go ahead. ‘I begged him to have a defibrillator put in. I felt that now we had Annie we could not risk anything happening to her Daddy. Also, I was more than ready to feel the comfort of Greg having a back-up in case something happened where he couldn’t be helped in time.’

  Greg sought advice from Vince and Mary, and the family consensus was that the continual uncertainty and growing risk of an attack when help wasn’t immediately available made the operation a sensible option.

  So on 21 February 2002, he went into hospital to have the device implanted. It was a huge decision, but Greg had psyched himself up for it. What he hadn’t anticipated was that, after he’d been prepped for the procedure, they would tell him there were no operating rooms available. He had to turn up again the following day. The device was finally set in place, under his collarbone: ‘They offered me various places but I figured in that position it wouldn’t interfere with my golf swing!’

  HE WAS SPIRALLING into what seemed like a dark, bottomless pit. ‘These were the deepest, DARKEST days of my life.’

  Chapter 13

  Dark Days

  THE DEFIBRILLATOR SEEMED TO MAKE AN IMMEDIATE DIFFERENCE. Greg had no further v-tach episodes, and as the weeks turned into months, he began to relax and embrace the joys of being a house dad. Sian completed her prerequisite classes for psychology. While she was studying, Greg cared for Annie during the day. He loved the chance to spend time with his daughter and to observe the almost daily changes in her. He loved to walk her to the local park in her pram.

  The decision to implant his defibrillator had other implications for Greg and Sian.

  ‘We hadn’t been back to Australia. We’d left our house there. We’d left so suddenly that we’d left our washing on the line. From then on, my medical team and my medical insurance in the States pretty much dictated that I’d be permanently based there.’ Greg and Sian returned to Sydney and stayed just long enough to tie up loose ends. They put their new house at Caringbah on the market and sold it quickly. Then they shipped all their belongings back to the States.

  As time passed, Greg’s confidence grew. He started feeling strong enough to begin running again and gradually eased himself into it by starting to jog. He loved to hear Annie’s gurgling and giggling as he ran with her in the baby jogger.

  One day in June 2002, Greg was returning from a moderate 45-minute run through his neighbourhood. He reached the busiest intersection near his home and stopped for the traffic light. When he saw the walk sign turn green, he started to cross the road. He’d almost made it to the other side of the road when, without any kind of warning, he felt as if he’d been kicked in the chest by a horse. The impact tossed him into the air. Annie’s jogger flew from his hands. Greg looked up to see it slowly rolling into the road. Luckily, it was into a side street, an empty dead end.

  ‘After I got up from the ground—I think it was only a split second— I realised that it was my first defibrillation going off. I was in shock. Annie was sound asleep. I walked home slowly and called the hospital. They told me to come in the next day so they could read the data. “OK, no big deal.” Great.’

  After his first defib shock, things seemed to settle down again, but Greg’s confidence was shattered. To most of his friends, he still seemed to be coping well with his problems. But deep inside, he was fighting a growing cast of demons. For the first time in his life, he was confronting his mortality on a daily basis. He was dealing with a creeping fear that sometimes threatened to overwhelm him. Most of the time, he kept it at bay. Occasionally, he enjoyed periods without giving it a thought. But it always emerged from the shadows of his mind. He slept lightly, he dreamed of death and dying, and he always woke before dawn. In those first milliseconds after he woke, he would battle an instant of fear before relief set in—he had been granted one more day.

  Greg would not have another defib until late November 2002. By then, Sian was pregnant with their second child and they were thinking about moving back to San Diego. Greg had been taken aback by his defib shock but it seemed to have been an isolated occurrence. He hoped it was an aberration caused by the stresses of living in LA. Sian, in particular, was ready for the move. ‘LA was so not us. What we were doing before was so grand. In San Diego we were used to training in groups and the local running and riding trails. In LA we were just existing, trying to get to the next stage. We didn’t know what was going on. They were dark days, but they weren’t as dark as they could’ve been because of the love Greg and I always had.’

  They found a house not far from their first home in Encinitas, a beautiful surfing town in North County, San Diego. The last time they’d seen the area it had been a lovely field of flowers. It was everything Greg and Sian had ever wanted in a neighbourhood. They moved into their new home on 15 April—Greg remembers the date because it was taxdue day in the US. Then they left immediately for LA to stay with Sian’s parents for the last two weeks of her pregnancy.

  On 6 May 2003, a beautiful, healthy girl called Emma was born by caesarean in Tarzana, a suburb in the San Fernando Valley. ‘I now had three Valley Girls, counting Sian. No wonder I had heart problems! They’re high maintenance, but I love them all dearly.’

  Greg and Sian returned to San Diego with Sian’s parents about four days after Emma’s birth. The following week, they threw a joint party with two other friends who’d recently had babies. It turned into a typical Aussie barbie. The mothers were talking babies around the prams while the blokes were out on the street playing street hockey. ‘That was as close to cricket as we could get in San Diego, particularly as a bunch of our friends were Canadian.’

  The neighbourhood was new, so the street was traffic free and the game was played with gusto. Greg played goalie so he didn’t have to move. He was thoroughly enjoying the game until, after 15 minutes, he was hit with a defib shock. No warning. Just whammo! ‘I was thrown to th
e ground and the game abruptly came to a halt. My friends rushed over and comforted me. I went inside to tell Sian, but it fired again. I walked the two houses to home and it fired again. I then sat down at home with Mary and Vince, and it fired yet again.’

  By this stage, Greg’s fear was almost paralysing. He lay down on the couch, dreading the slightest movement. His father-in-law Vince said they should go to the hospital for some medication to snap him out of the cycle. Greg rose and slowly walked to the toilet. As he approached the hallway, his defib fired again. Each time it went off, Greg felt the shock spear through his body. The shock was bad enough, but the anticipation of the next one was even worse. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if he had some warning, some signal that it was imminent, but it came haphazardly, almost sneakily, without any apparent trigger. Greg’s mother-in-law Mary drove him to the hospital because they thought it would be quicker than waiting for an ambulance. Once there, Greg’s attacks subsided. The doctors gave him lidocaine and kept him in the intensive care unit for two days before they let him go home.

  Greg felt like a time bomb with a faulty switch that was detonating without warning. ‘I feel it right inside the heart and it’s like a big stick of dynamite. It’s like an internal explosion, like a mini friggin’ atom bomb going off in my heart. Boom! It throws me a couple of feet. It’s just the shock of it all. No warning. You could be in v-tach, and one-millionth of a second later, it will just hit. If that’s the way that it’s set up to hit, and mine was set up like that—initially for any fatal heart rhythm I would get a shock.’

  A few days later, Greg was sitting at home and his defib started firing again and again—with growing rapidity. Every other minute, it would kick in. Greg was now constantly expecting it and the anticipation added to the torture. ‘I kept thinking, “Why is this happening? When will it go again?” It would settle, I’d think it was finished, then whammo!’