By Luis Cajero
In this deeply personal essay, Friction Labs athlete Luis Cajero reflects on how a life-changing injury and the loss of his mother forced him to pause his relentless pursuit of climbing greatness. Through pain, grief, and recovery, he discovered lessons in presence, gratitude, and inner growth. His story is a powerful reminder that life’s hardest moments often bring the greatest transformation.
For the last six years, I have been on a non-stop mission to develop a new bouldering area in the center of Mexico. I even moved out of my old city, quit my coaching job, and devoted myself to making this area one of the main climbing spots in the country. Five years of work have given 350+ new lines in the V1 to V13 range and the potential for some of the hardest boulders in the country. All of this led me to search for the most inspiring rock I could find in a huge forest, which I found in late 2020. At first, it seemed possible, but after brushing and seeing the hard and subtle nature of the holds, I immediately thought it would take a future generation to climb it once I finished a couple of disappointing sessions.
I abandoned the project for almost three years, promising myself to go back to it once I could get stronger. Fast-forward to 2023, I found myself at it again, this time with a stronger right foot/leg required for the only heel hook that makes the boulder doable. My fingers felt stronger too. After 15 sessions over several months on it, I finally got all the moves done and it was just a matter of waiting for fall and good temps to arrive.
I have this silly dream of being one of the few Mexicans & Latin Americans to put up a V14 in my country - when I started climbing 24 years ago, this was only done by the elite. Nowadays it is more common due to new research, advanced materials, training methods, and gym facilities. Trusting I was close to a long dream of mine, I made a quick trip to my old city to visit my mother on her birthday. After lunch with my mom and family, I went for a bouldering session at an old climbing wall gym that used to be my training space from 2009 to 2020.
That’s when the unthinkable happened. I tried a long move on a tall roof and by the time I hit the mats, I became painfully aware that there was a big space in between the mats. (It was not a proper gym nor professionally cushioned.) I felt and heard how my ankle ligaments completely tore as my foot landed unevenly in between the mats. The foot scene was very disturbing and painful. I tried to remain calm and breathe. My friends took me right away to the ER at the closest hospital to assess my ankle. After a few hours and a magnetic resonance, the doctor confirmed four torn ligaments and several other minor damages to the talus bone and cartilage. The possibility of surgery would be determined after 45 days of being in a cast and on full rest.
Every day became a battle with my inner demons, mainly anger, and frustration with how long the recovery process would be. It was a very dark period in my life. At one point, extreme sadness took over and I started getting sick every week with all sorts of illnesses. I gained several pounds of fat and lost muscle during those six weeks of not moving around or exercising. When that wait finally came to an end, the doctor tested the stability of my foot and suggested not to go into surgery even though four ligaments were missing. The fibrosis my ankle formed seemed to be strong enough to stabilize my foot. Rehab started right away and with it my renewed hope of getting my foot to function normally and climb at some point again at my highest level. The doctor gave me a six-month test period to get back to activity but said that it could take up to a year of recovery.
When things started to improve in my rehab, I received some text messages from my family saying my mom got sick with pneumonia and that she was in a very delicate situation due to her lung health. I had to stop life and make a quick trip back to my parents’ city to try and help my mom. I picked her up from the couch as soon as I arrived, as she had lain there for several days without being able to eat properly prior to my arrival.
Things got better after a few days in the intensive care unit, but every day some other part of her body started to fail. I lived on a couch for a total of 14 days next to the intensive care unit, not even worrying about me, my foot, or climbing. Christmas consisted of trying to feed my mom a few spoonfuls of fruit puree. At the start of the New Year, feeding my mom during hospital visits became the most important “project” in my life. After so much pain and disease, mom made the transition and passed away on January 3, 2025.
It’s been almost six months since my accident. I haven’t climbed properly nor trained during this time - maybe every other week just for some “maintenance” work. It’s been over a month since my mom’s death and I feel at my weakest and worst shape ever. It feels weird to not be worried about climbing anymore right now, nor training or being at my best. I had always believed that if your heart and mind are strong and at their fullest, your body can handle anything - no need to train it. I’ve been trying hard over the last few weeks to recover my previous physical state, but it has become a monumental task. I feel slow, and heavy, and have very low energy overall. My heart is missing a big part of its nature; my mind feels lost and disoriented most of the time.
This points out one lesson - maybe advice for anyone going through something similar, a big loss, or a serious injury: Life’s most important lessons are always learned through pain. Life forced me to fall on my mom’s birthday in order to grow; to lose in order to gain.
Nowadays, I am taking one day at a time, trying to keep up with my foot rehab and honoring my mom in as many ways as I can. Feeling all the pain and void that come in waves during the day. Forcing myself to maintain a daily routine of discipline in the midst of all the chaos, transforming physical pain into strength, and mental and emotional pain into love, humility, and empathy.
I hope one of these days I can go back to climbing, but that depends on three main things on different levels: my foot, my mind, and most importantly, my heart. All this pain has made me understand what happiness is and to never take things or people for granted.
Throughout this painful experience, the positive aspect is that I can feel I am becoming a better human in the process, a better sibling and son. I am building a stronger Luis with improved character and profound inner growth.
Thanks for reading this far.
