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Gerone Blomgren

The Other Side of Quitting

By 29029 Everesting

February 14^th, 2025

This is not a sob story.

But to give you the context that found me on the startline at 29029 Sun Valley, you have to understand the chaos that transpired in my life starting 4 years ago.

In the last half of 2021, my father-in-law passed away from lung cancer.

I grew up a classically stoic guy - typical of my Swedish background - so being the rock for my wife came naturally.

Only a month after my father-in-law passed away, as 2022 began, I got a call from my Mom that my Dad was missing.

This wasn’t necessarily unusual - my mother has a borderline personality disorder, and she would frequently blow up on my Dad. He would often retreat somewhere to let things cool off before returning home.

But this time was different.

Later that night, his body was found. He had hung himself.

I was shaken up - the first cracks in my stoic armor were starting to form. My Dad - the strongest guy I knew - had found himself so far outside the range of hope that he decided to take his own life.

If he couldn’t make it, what chance did I have?

Overwhelmed, I went into a dark place. It was all too much.

Work wasn’t going well.

Family life was a struggle.

The stress felt insurmountable.

I can’t handle it…

I started to consider taking my own life.

Now you have to understand; I’m a process guy. I run operations at a distribution center, so that’s just how my mind works.

As I found myself considering that permanent decision, I thought that I should give life one more shot.

Worst case, if this life thing fails again, I can still come back to my Plan A…

It was morbid, but it was how my mind worked.

What would the process of giving it one more shot look like?

I took inventory of all the shit that was going wrong. It was a long list, but I realized that most of them were things I couldn’t do anything about.

Okay… cross off everything that is out of my control.

The list got smaller.

Now cross off anything that you can’t do something about today.

The list got smaller still.

There were a few work things left on the list, but the majority of what was left - most of the things that were within my control that I could start to make meaningful steps towards fixing - were related to my health.

I was over 300 pounds, and far from healthy. I could barely even make it up a set of stairs!

It was time to change that.

I started small, knowing a big goal - like hitting a certain weight or being able to run a certain distance - would just overwhelm me and lead me to quit.

So I started going for walks.

Then I cut sugar from my diet.

Then I decided to jog.

I could only do 30 seconds at a time, so that’s what I’d do.

As I continued to walk and run, I started covering more and more ground. That time - when I got to lace up running shoes and leave everything behind for a while - became my safe retreat.

Now, since this is already getting long and we haven’t even talked about the mountain yet, I’ll try to keep it brief…

I got hooked. I kept running, I lost weight - lots of weight - and by the end of 2022, I had not only run my first half-marathon, but also my first full.

In 2023, I went further, running ultra-marathons.

I had found a new life, which had saved my old one.

In 2024, the word misogi was something I was focused on. I wanted to keep pushing my limits.

Thankfully, I was surrounded by coworkers who were on a similar kick. Riad, who I consider first a friend, and only secondarily my boss, was the first one to bring up this event called "29029," and before I knew it, a group of us from work were registered for it.

If I’m being honest, I felt a bit cocky about it.

Although my life as a runner had only just begun, I had already checked off so much. Heck, I had run a 50-miler!

How hard could a mountain really be? 36 hours is a long time to finish. The distance isn’t even that long… There’s a gondola break after every climb. I think this won’t be that hard.

That attitude continued through the start on Friday as I rode the wave of early-event energy through the first few ascents.

I think I can get all of these done in 24 hours… maybe even less! Probably get a nap or two in during.

Things were easy and going well.

Right up until they weren’t.

The first warning came during my 9th ascent, when my hip started shooting warning pains.

I was no stranger to the aches and pains from endurance events, so I kept going, starting my 10th ascent at night.

That's when those warning pains became a straight-up crisis. It was the worst pain I had ever experienced!

I sat down at the first aid station and started thinking this was where my 29029 would end.

Ego was all that kept me from catching a ride back down to the base. Even though I chose to keep gutting out that 10th ascent, I knew I was done.

That's it. I'm done. This is all I can do.

After agonizing hours, I finally reached the summit, got in the gondola, and immediately went to my tent.

I felt ashamed as I typed out a text to the group chat with my coworkers.

"I can’t walk anymore. I think I’m done"

I had gone to Sun Valley feeling like the mentor of our group. I had done ultras before. I was the most experienced. I mean, I had even tracked out how many milligrams of sodium and magnesium I’d need per hour on the slopes. I was the guy.

But now, as many of our group kept climbing through the night, I lay in bed, hardly able to move.

I don’t actually know what I’m doing.

As I finally got the courage to press send on my text message, I waited for the judgment to spew in.

I knew they’d be disappointed in me.

I knew they’d look at me like I’d failed them.

But that’s not what happened. Not even close.

I exposed my vulnerability to them, and all that came back was encouragement, genuine care for my well-being, and pride in how hard I’d pushed.

It helped me make a decision right then and there.

Even as I was laid out, groaning, and hurting, I knew I had to try again in the morning.

If I don’t keep trying, I’ll regret it once I get home.

Early in the morning, I felt just slightly better. The hip pain had come down just enough that I could check off 2 more ascents before it started to intensify again.

Okay, NOW I'm done. I came back after throwing in the towel last night. I climbed the mountain again twice... This is it. I gave it my all.

I ran into one of my colleagues at the base. She was about to start her 14th.

“Will you join me for this one? I could use some company.”

I couldn’t say no to her.

I guess I might be able to do one more…

Next thing I knew, it was mid-afternoon and I was still climbing. I was just two ascents away from Everest.

I still didn't think the Red Hat was in my sights, but I thought I could try at least one more. I could get close.

That ascent was my slowest yet. I was basically climbing with one leg, using my good one to trek forward while dragging my bad one behind me. The Wall must have taken me 90 minutes alone as I inched my way upwards!

On Friday morning, when you’re at the base of the mountain looking up towards the summit, Everest seems like too much. Just like the mountain of personal struggles that led me down the path that brought me to Sun Valley in the first place, it’s daunting.

But just like how I found my way out of that dark place in my personal life, on the mountain I also leaned into focusing only on what I could control.

And now, with just a single ascent to go, I realized I needed to shrink that lesson down even smaller.

With my hip, it felt like there was no way I could reach the summit a 15th time.

I was battered, bruised, and broken.

(As an aside, broken was not an exaggeration. I didn't realize it then, but I'd later learn that I was dealing with a torn labrum and a fractured hip bone)

One more climb probably was too much.

But one more step wasn’t.

I could control that.

So I took a step.

And then another.

And another.

Another still.

I was on my way towards the Red Hat.

When I finally crossed that finish line, no words can come even close to describing the feelings running through me.

Emotional might be the most ridiculous understatement, but it’s also the only way I can explain it.

Standing at the top of Sun Valley felt like the culmination of such an incredible journey of self-discovery. It felt like an exclamation mark on a journey that I thought was done when I first started running ultras.

I thought I’d learned all I could from endurance, but the mountain proved me wrong.

For 36 hours, I sat at the edge of quitting.

Each moment when I swore I had nothing left, I made a choice: to take just one more step.

And each of those steps proved a lesson: you don’t need to conquer everything all at once - just the next thing in front of you. If you try to do 100 things, you’ll probably do a shitty job. But if you focus on one step, one challenge, one moment - you can crush it.