My Ironman Journey: Shawna Gibson

Shawna Gibson shares her unbelievable journey to becoming an Ironman

In our continuing series of amazing stories, as told by Ironman finishers themselves, we bring you this amazing race report fromShawan Gibson, who managed to finish Ford Ironman Wisconsin last year despite incredible odds.

My adventure began September of 2005. I participated in my first sprint triathlon that year in March. That September 11, seven of us signed up for the 2006 Ford Ironman Wisconsin scheduled for September 10, 2006. We were all Ironman virgins and very eager to get training underway. Mid-October, I began feeling really tired and run down. I chalked it up to over training and told myself to slow it down.

By November, something just wasn’t right. I went to my doctor as I go every two months because of my family medical history. I had the “works” done, and did not think much of it. Well, November 25 I was on my way to a wedding in San Antonio when I received the phone call.

I hung up the phone numb. I drove the rest of the way in silence but my thoughts in my head were deafening.

Monday I went in and we discussed my options. Surgery was the first choice. A complete hysterectomy. Well, I said no way. My first thought was I still had a marathon to complete the first weekend in December in Vegas, and I just signed up for the Ironman, how am I supposed to train?  Then of course, the fact that I am only 32 and not married, no kids. 

So, the “spot” was about the size of a fingernail. We choose radiation and chemo. I was to begin right away, so they highly suggested. Well… I asked, you know would it kill me if I waited until after my marathon, after all I had been training, and if we’ve waited this long??? Upset, but beat down from my arguing my Doctor threw her hands up and said “Fine, but you will begin treatment the morning you get back.”

I arrived in Vegas December 2^nd with three of my training partners. I told no one what was going on.

The morning of the marathon, I made a choice. A choice to give this race 110%. I am not talking about the marathon either; I am talking about the Cancer Race. I will be dammed if it will win. Cancer picked the wrong chick to mess with. Cancer will become my “A” race. I made my way down to the start.

I had a blast!! I sang with a group of Elvis’s and got to run behind one of my heroes who didn’t know me from Adam, Amby Burfoot.  He is an amazing individual.  I then, of course, passed him and finished my marathon in 3:43.

I missed Boston by three minutes. (Damm Elvis’s).

When I came back home my real race began. Radiation is not that bad, really. The set up takes longer than the actual procedure. I did get nauseous, a lot. And my employer was extremely understanding. (Thank you Benbrook YMCA ) I went through nine weeks of radiation. It was supposed to be only five, but I got the flu in the middle and had to start over. It wasn’t until my third week of radiation that I told someone. The first to learn was my training partner Brian Miller. He had been giving me a hard time about getting slower, etc… I was going through radiation, not sleeping and pms-ing.  I about bit his head off one morning and screamed “I have cancer you …”

Well, that was just great. I made him feel terrible, not my intention at all, it just happened.

Over the next two months I would only let a few folks know.  I didn’t want to be treated differently, I didn’t want “the look.” I continued to train. The chemo kicked my rear. I took cisplatin, two pills once a day. I could time the pills according to my work and training schedule. If it were a big training day, or important meetings at work, I would wait to take my pills. No matter what though, ultimately I would end up puking three to four hours later. One day at work I had to go down to our child-watch area that was closed and proceeded to get sick. Have you any idea what it is like to one day be this person who is kicking butt and taking names, then the next you are laying alone, on your bathroom floor praying that you will quit puking? I remember training with my group and no matter how hard I would try, I would fall behind, I just couldn’t keep up.

You pray that you will have enough energy just to make it through.

You wash your hair, you are running your fingers through it and a clump comes out, so you begin to shower, and not brush your hair, out of fear of how much will fall out.

Finally, July 25^th, 2006 was my official last two pills. I had a bike rally set for August 13, The Melon Patch ride in Deleon Texas. After the ride, I needed to get in 30 more miles as this was supposed to be our second-to-last century ride before IM.  I went back out on the racecourse, where 15 miles in, two dogs attacked me - a yellow lab and a brown lab. The yellow lab leapt onto me and knocked me down. I broke my elbow on both sides of the radial head, shattered my wrist in three different places (chemo makes your bones very brittle), dislocated my shoulder, bruised my scapula, and suffered a concussion.

Here I was lying on the ground, bleeding, could not move in the middle of the road, the dog running at me, thinking,  I am done with chemo, I won the hardest race of my life, now this?

I was at the physical therapist Monday morning. My orthopedic surgeon said there would be no way I could do any type of activity for months. So, I left that office and called Dr.Brian. He told me to come in and we would figure out a way to make it work. Not once did he say I could not. He said: “It is going to hurt, and you are going to have to listen to everything I tell you to do and follow every direction.”

What did I have to loose? I was 3 1/2 weeks from my Ironman, I had to listen and have faith in him. I did everything, he asked, my elbow was healing awesome, he had me completely extending my elbow and moving my shoulder within a couple of weeks.

The Thursday before we were to leave for WI, I had a check up with Dr.Hull, my orthopedic surgeon. He was supposed to release me. After more x-rays we found that my wrist was gone. Again, Dr.Hull told me “Nope, you will not be able to do the race.”

I told him thank you, went home and began to pack. Chuck, Brian, and I drove while the other girls took a plane. We arrived in WI Wednesday night. We all decided to ride the first loop of the 112-bike course. Well, I had this crazy removable cast that Dr.Brian had made for me. I also had wrapped my left handle bar in an ace bandage to absorb the shock of the road, and under the cast I had wrapped my arm/wrist up in Vet Wrap (a wrap that we used when I ran race horses).

Although it was hard and very painful, I was able to ride. At this point I knew my hope in a 11–12 hour Ironman was all but gone.  I just wanted to make the cut-off times and hear those magic words “Shawna Gibson, you are an Ironman.”

To see my team put me into my wet suit was a sight. I didn’t know should I thank them or press charges, there were hands everywhere, pulling on this and that. I couldn’t wear my cast for my elbow, as the wet suit would not fit over it, so we had to be very careful. They literally had to place me in it and two folks had to pull and shake me into it, has I had no ability to grip with my arm and wrist as it was.

I get in and begin…I cannot describe the pain that I felt as my hand entered the water and pulled the water past me. It felt as though my wrist was separating from my hand. I got about 400 – 500 yards and stopped. I floated and began to cry.

At that point, I got mad, mad at everything. It wasn’t the first time this year I have become bitter, mad, angry at everything and everyone. I turned back over, put my face back in the water and began to swim. I swam harder than I have ever swam before, going fast, but my form was terrible - I could feel it. I was hitting the water angry! At about 800 – 900 yards, I felt something give in my wrist. I couldn’t move it. It hurt; I mean really, the worst pain ever. At that moment, I knew it was over. I knew that with everything that this year has been, that I have gone through, it was over. I would not be doing the race. I kicked back to the shore, where I saw Dee and Fran, they asked me how it was and all I could do is cry.

I explained to Chuck and Brian what had happened, and Chuck said, “Shawna, we will get you through this, you will race Sunday, I have an idea, let me put it together and I will call you later.” I thought it was sweet and just like “Papa Chuck”, Brian, played it safe and never said a word, as my temper has been very quick this past year. 

The girls and I were in the hotel room, when Stacy told me not to worry, that she would do Florida with me and even wait to get her tattoo (as, in this culture we get the IM logo tattooed on us) until I completed mine. I cried. I‘ll tell you I cried like I have never cried before. All the emotions, frustration, anger, every ounce of my feelings came out.

“This is just not fair, why God, why me… I know they say you will never give us more than we can handle, but heck, I just wish you didn’t believe in me so much.”

About an hour later, I got a phone call to meet the guys in their room. Chuck had this idea of tethering us together. I would have a rope around my chest he would have a rope around his chest and we would have two ropes leading from either side of us connecting us together. I thought it was the sweetest gesture ever, but knew there would be no way. Even if it did, work there would be no way it would be legal. Well, Chuck said that if we could get it approved and the officials said yes we would do it. The next morning we tried it and it worked. We had to figure out my kicking and his arms but it worked.

I would stroke three times with my right hand and breath, pause, do it again, all the while I was to be kicking, kicking like I never have before.

Long story, even longer… Chuck asked at the pre-race dinner if we could do this. At first they said no way, then Paula Newby-Fraser herself, a multiple Ironman World Champion, came over and asked me if I was planning on qualifying for Hawaii, I kinda chuckled and lifted my cast and said “No. My goal is 16:59.59.” All I wanted to do is finish. She said ok, she said YES! Paul Newby- Fraser became my new best friend for life.

Why I was so excited to put my body through 140.6 miles one will never know. 

Our day officially begins at 4:00 AM. Talk about organized madness!!! The temperature is about 52 degrees, 20 mph wind, and drizzle. A beautiful day indeed! 

The energy…the people… the athletes… the volunteers.  AMAZING!!! The folks of Wisconsin were unbelievably supportive. I thought we Texans were friendly. At 6:30 AM I get help into my wetsuit and Fran Terrill, a retired doctor, friend, and race support for our team, injects my wrist with some stuff very similar to Novocain. She stuck the needle into the bone. OH MY GOSH IT HURT!!  Chuck and I wait until the very last minute…. We finally are asked to get in. I was scared. Papa Chuck at one point turned to me (keep in mind we are attached by ropes at this point) he turns to me and says, “You need to relax, breath, this is going to be easy, we practiced it, you do your part, I’ll do mine, we will get this done!”

The cannon goes off. 2,200 hundred athletes all heading in the same direction, it was crazy insane. I panicked a bit, and then I finally got the swing of it. I kept my eyes out for people whenever I would see someone coming our way I would push them away. It really was like boxing in the water. We finished the swim in 1 hour and 26 minutes. When we finally stopped, I pulled off my goggles and grabbed Papa Chucks neck and yes again, I cried….so did he. I ran to transition to change.

Well, I get through the first loop ok, actually not so bad. I’m cold, the wind has picked up and the rain has begun to come down a bit harder. The adrenalin gets you. Unfortunately, due to the injuries, I am not able to stand up on my bike to climb hills, nor can I grab onto my handlebars. I have to stay in aero the entire time. A little past the first loop, I have a flat. Luckily, I brought two tubes. One problem, I have a broke hand and cannot change it. I tried. I put the rim under my chin while using my good hand and knees to pull the tire off…It did not work. Finally, after about 30 minutes a volunteer whom had never changed a tire offered to help. I talked him though it. As he was airing it up with the CO2 cartridge the tube popped! So, we changed it again, this time I ask him to go easy on the CO2 and watch for pinching. Finally, 44 minutes later, the tire is fixed. I get about a mile down the road, and I feel it, I feel the wobble of the tire again. Another flat. I look at my watch and realize I cannot wait another 40 plus minutes to get this changed, I am going to have to ride on this. 42 miles later, I finally stop. My legs cannot take anymore. Between the constant kicking in the water, climbing the hills of Wisconsin, without the ability of standing, the wind, and the rain…

I am exhausted. I ask one of the cops on the course to call me help to change my tire. He said he would but because of the weather, there have been an unusual amount of flats. He said it would probably be an hour before anyone gets here! I looked at my watch it was a little after 3:00pm. I had until 5:30 to make the cut off time, I could not wait. I knew that I had three monster climbs ahead of me… I looked at the cop and told him to have them find me, number 2284, and off I went.

On one hill I looked at the computer on my bike and I was going three miles an hour. For a brief moment I thought I had entered hell! Finally, I got to the top, someone yelled, hey, you have a flat! 

So, there I was riding, when a red station wagon pulled up beside me and asked if I had a flat… I said yes, they said pull over.

I sat on the side of the road with my knees pulled to my chest, my head buried in them, shivering. At this point, the rain was coming down pretty hard, and my legs were gone.

The tire was changed and off I went… I made it in at 5:22. I thought I was clear. I sat in the transition area drying off, warming up, when a women told me I needed to hurry, as I had to be across the run mat by 5:30. I had my pants and top on that was it. I looked at my watch it said, 5:25. I grabbed my shoes, my cast, my jacket, and my baggie of nutrition and ran out, barefoot and all. I crossed the mat at 5:28!

The first 6 miles hurt. Then something just took over. I got this energy that was so overwhelming.

At mile 16, I began getting numb from being so cold; I couldn’t feel my legs or my nose.

Mile 20 … Really, do I only have 6 more miles left? Am I going to be an Ironman? Mile 22, I saw this women sitting down crying, she was sobbing. My heart wanted to stop and help her, encourage her, but I could not take the chance of something else going wrong and me not making it, so I ran on. Mile 24, the crowd began to get thick again, you could here other athletes names being announced, folks were telling me, just a little longer, right around thee corner… Then I saw it, I actually saw it.

The big blown up arch, the big M-Dot, the capital behind everything, I could feel my tears welling, There was a women in front of me that I very easily could have passed but I waited, I waited out of respect, but more importantly, I waited because I wanted it all alone, I wanted to cherish, and relish in those words, I have fought through cancer, radiation, chemo, broken elbow, wrist,  scapula, concussion and two flat tires. I have earned these words…

“From Fort Worth Texas, Shawna Gibson, you are an Ironman!!!

You can do no wrong and are welcomed to a family of elite athletes that made a commitment to I can and not I can’t. 

WOW! What an experience. What an education on just how much our body can endure and what incredible machines God has blessed us with. 

Ironman has a slogan, “Anything is Possible.” I challenge everyone reading this race report to look inside oneself and ask yourself is there anything you are fearing and holding back from doing? Are you saying to yourself that you can not do it, or it is too hard or I do not have the time? Are there dreams that go unfulfilled because you are not willing to work for it or you are not willing to reach out and take a chance? Let me put this challenge to you. I competed in this race with 2,200 gifted athletes. Some had bodies sculpted to perfection (that made me look fat) and others who looked like a poster child for weight watchers. There were athletes who were faster and there were athletes that were slower. The key is, they all had the courage to try and that made them all winners. “The only one’s who fail are those who do not try!”

Here it is a month after my race. I am going in for surgery on my wrist as after the race I completely annihilated it. Dr.Hull held up the x-rays before and after the Ironman and without even skipping a beat said pick a date for your surgery. I will be in a cast for about four months he said. He said he hoped it was worth it… DANG RIGHT IT WAS!!!

I must tell you because of this experience, the past year and the incredible support I have received from my YMCA, training partners, family ( Lisa, Kids, Grammy, Bill) I have been motivated to help other people accomplish goals. Like I said, it does not have to be an Ironman, it is any goal you set for yourself. Just try it.

Last weekend 12 cancer patients/survivors completed their first triathlon. These women are the most incredible group of women you will ever meet.

Thanks to donations made possible by the YMCA, these women were able to train for and complete an event that will forever have an impact on their life.

My point is, God has given us but one chance, one body and one shot to make a difference in not only those around us but within ourselves. Take the opportunity to “Carpe Diem”, and make a difference in someone’s life by leading by example and not by words. Actions are very powerful and are much more respected.