This post is a tribute to my long-time running partner, Wendy Holdaway.

When I first started running ultras in the late 1990s, most of my trail running friends had been inherited from my first husband, Jim Nelson. Then I joined the ultra running e-mail list and started meeting other runners online. One day, as I was reading through the list, I came across a post from a runner who lived in Mexico City but who was going to be in Utah to do some training for the Wasatch 100. She asked if anyone was willing and interested in going out with her for a training and reconnaissance run on the course. I said yes. Her name was Wendy Holdaway.

For that first run together, Wendy and I ran 14 out of the first 17 first miles of the old Wasatch 100 course, which started at Wilderness Park in Kaysville, Utah, went north on the Bonneville Shoreline Trail to the Fernwood Trailhead, then turned up the Great Western Trail, climbed to the Wasatch backbone and went south to Farmington Canyon and beyond. The new Wasatch course meets up with the old one at the top of Bair Canyon above Fruit Heights and Kaysville.

After doing a car shuttle to leave a ride at the top of Farmington Canyon, Wendy and I ran the course from Fernwood to where the car was parked at Farmington Canyon. Along the way, we learned that we had a lot in common, from backgrounds in classical music (Wendy is the principal bassoonist in the National Symphony Orchestra of Mexico, plays in multiple chamber ensembles, has a solo performing career, and is a professor as well; I played the cello in both amateur and professional groups for many years and my undergraduate degree is in music) to having grown up in Utah (or at least mostly in Utah, for me), and having some surprising mutual friends.

On that first run, as we were nearing the top of the first big climb to the top of the Wasatch ridgeline—and just before we ran into a huge rattlesnake crossing the trail—Wendy made a casual remark that changed my entire outlook on life for the better. She pointed out that something I thought was everyday normal in a relationship was actually abuse. I hadn’t seen it that way before. It was the first time of many when she opened my mind to new ideas and new ways of approaching everyday life for the better. That was the first of many, many incredible running experiences together.

Our tradition over the years has been to do a week or so of running together in the mountains of northern Utah, mostly on the Wasatch course, almost every July. Among our signature runs is a 15-mile loop starting from the Upper Big Water parking lot in Millcreek Canyon, heading up to Dog Lake and then Desolation Lake, up to the Wasatch ridgeline just north of Red Lovers’ Ridge, then north on the Wasatch Crest Trail and back down to Upper Big Water on the Great Western Trail. (You can check it out on CalTopo.com if you’re interested.) Running that loop each year has been one of the most joyful experiences of my life, and it’s both predictable and repeatable. Few running experiences quite compare with the feeling I get when cruising along on a pine-duff singletrack trail with my trail bestie. We also run together at Christmas time in Utah almost every year, often with Wendy’s husband Alex Flores, and IT’S COLD!!! Every single time!! But still a blast.

Some Hiccups

I have to admit that not everything about our running together is rainbows and ponies. Wendy is an incredible speed-walker and climber. She can power up a hill like it’s nothing. I, on the other hand, drag a bit on uphills. So it’s pretty easy for Wendy to leave me in the dust on uphill sections of trail. In contrast, when I’m in shape I can FLY down almost anything. I love the footwork of finding a path down through a rocky trail at warp speed. Wendy, however, takes her time on downhills and is far more cautious (and wise) than I am. So each of our primary trail running strengths is the opposite of the other. Those key differences make it so that we have to be patient with each other; we have to adjust our preferred speeds to make it so we can run together more than alone.

Running together, both in training and races, we’ve experienced everything from scary lightning storms to bone-chilling cold to heat exhaustion (after running out of water in 100+ degree weather) to a broken bone(me, broken rib from tripping and tumbling onto the lid of a water bottle in a waist pack) and rolled ankles (also me, one in particular that happened because we were talking about David Goggins (Google him if you don’t know who he is) and I was so distracted I wasn’t paying attention to what was underfoot) to experiencing the most breath-taking beauty imaginable. The endorphin highs are just part of the fun.

Trail Besties

Overall, I’m not sure I would have enjoyed ultrarunning as much as I do if I hadn’t had the long-term friendship that I have with Wendy. She’s an inspiration, a prolific ultrarunner with many, many finishes, and a great running partner.

So Wendy, this is for you. Thank you for all of the years of incredible, amazing, lovely experiences out on the trails. Besos!