The Next Mountain: Rosie Gagnon’s Journey to 200

“The triumph of finishing a 100-miler is just like nothing else, no matter how much you are suffering. As soon as you cross that finish line, it’s just the greatest feeling in the world. I thought, ‘I can do 100 of these.’”

And she did.

After seven and a half years, Rosie Gagnon has completed 100 100-mile races in honor of her son, United States Marine Corps Veteran James “Dexter” Morris, who died by suicide on 25 February 2018. What began as an act of survival, her first 100-miler just three months after Dexter’s death in June 2018, became a mission: 100 races to honor her son and to bring awareness to the crisis of soldier and veteran suicide.

Now, Rosie is setting her sights on 100 more.

From 100 to 200: A Lifetime of Remembrance

For Rosie, this was never about medals or buckle collections, though her list of finishes spans some of the most grueling endurance events in the country and beyond, including the legendary Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc in France. That race was a seven-year goal, requiring qualifying runs and relentless daily training, two to three hours of running or hiking, day after day.

“Lift where you stand,” Rosie says, recalling a church sermon that shaped her outlook. Whatever you are doing, turn that into purpose.

Running became her purpose.

She has crossed finish lines at races across the country, including the 2023 Marine Corps Marathon, which marked her 68th 100-miler. She has taken on grueling courses like the New River Trail 100, North Georgia’s 100-mile race, and Cherry Springs’ 110-mile Veterans Day event beneath the Dark Sky. In January, Rosie claimed first place overall and was the only female finisher for the second consecutive year at the H9 Fierce Dragon 100 in the North Georgia mountains, becoming the only woman to complete that rugged and unpredictable winter 100-mile course.

From lighthouses to viaducts, deserts to mountain passes, Rosie has logged thousands of miles across trails with names like Warrior 100, Devil Dog, Grindstone, and Blackbeard’s Revenge. Each mile carries Dexter’s name and often the names of others.

“22 is too many,” she says, referencing the devastating statistic tied to veteran suicide. “So I honor through action.”

The Cost of the Mission

Ultra-running at this level is expensive. Travel. Race fees. Shoes. Packs. Gear. Hotels. Food. The unseen cost of chasing a start line across states and across oceans.

But the physical toll may be even greater.

In a 100-miler, there is no sleep. You run straight through. Hallucinations blur the trail. Navigating technical terrain becomes a test of will. Rosie has gone eight hours without an aid station, without another runner in sight. You have to be okay with being alone.

Pain management becomes a skill set: blistered feet, shredded quads, raw skin. Stomach issues, nausea, vomiting, forcing down enough calories to survive the effort. After each race, it can take nearly two weeks for her heart rate to settle back to normal.

And still, she signs up again.

What Keeps Her Moving

When asked what carries her through the darkest miles, Rosie doesn’t hesitate.

“I think about my kids. I think about Dexter. I think about the families I’m carrying loved ones’ names for.”

She prays. She problem-solves. She listens to Sabaton, heavy metal rooted in war history, something Dexter loved deeply. Their music becomes rhythm. Memory. Connection.

Rosie is a mother of eight, five boys and three girls. Dexter was her second oldest.

In the quiet moments, she wrestles with grief that still surfaces. She has shared openly on her blog, writing about the physical pain of races and the emotional terrain of loss. She has admitted feeling like she failed her eldest son. That she didn’t navigate the early days of grief as well as she wished.

And yet, she continues.

Not because she believes she failed, but because she refuses to let silence win.

A Connection to wear blue

Rosie’s relationship with wear blue: run to remember began at an ultra in Ohio, her fourth or fifth 100-miler. The connection was instant. A community that honors through movement. A place where Dexter’s name would be spoken, not hidden.

Through wear blue, Rosie found people who understood honoring through action. Who believe that remembrance is not passive, it is lived.

She has embodied that belief across 100 finish lines.

The Triumph and the Next Step

The moment she crossed her 100th 100-mile finish line, the suffering dissolved into something else entirely.

“The triumph of finishing a 100-miler is just like nothing else… I thought, ‘I can do 100 of these.’”

Now she is chasing 200.

Not because it’s easy.
Not because the grief is gone.
Not because the miles don’t hurt.

But because every step says Dexter’s name.
Because every buckle is a reminder that love outlasts loss.
Because lifting where you stand can change the world, one mile at a time.

As Rosie embarks on her next 100, she carries more than hydration packs and race bibs. She carries a son’s legacy. She carries the names of the fallen. She carries hope for families who feel alone in their grief.

And she runs so no one else has to suffer in silence.