This post is a tribute to my long-time running partner, Wendy Holdaway.
Winter Running with Wendy and Alex
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.
Running together at the Antelope Island Buffalo Run
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.
Wasatch 100 Training
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
Wendy finishing the Bear 100 with help from pacer and friend Troy Marsh
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!
Running with Wendy Holdaway at the Antelope Island Buffalo Run, early morning on day two for Wendy. Photo Credit: Quintin Barney
Sometimes people ask me how I got into ultrarunning.* Here’s a summary of how running has been woven into my life over the years. This isn’t the only way to progress from shorter races to ultras. Others have, I’m sure, done a much better job of growing in the sport. But for what it’s worth, this is what my experience has been, listed by age ranges.
Early Inspiration
16 to 22: No racing at all, just consistent running for the fun of it. My longest single-run distance was probably two miles during those years. My standard running route while I was living at home with my parents was one mile, around what I called “the block.” I also did a lot of long-distance walking, hiking, and backpacking.
22 to 23: While I was serving in South Korea as a service and proselyting missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (at times I refer to it as the “Mormon Peace Corps”), I was fortunate enough to work with several fellow missionaries who were into either fitness in general or running in particular. Also, the president of my mission at the time, David C. Butler, was a marathon runner. I remember him telling us about the first time he had run for six straight miles. That seemed like a long way and left a big impression on me! He encouraged all of us who served under him to make fitness and, ideally, running a high priority. During each of the two summers while I was there, President Butler held a sports day. All of the missionaries who were in the Korea Seoul Mission gathered together to play soccer, eat, and (most importantly) to run in a 5K race if they wanted to do so. I ran in the 5K both years. They were my first and second ever 5K races.
24 to 27: I returned to the U.S. after 16 months in South Korea. Not long after, I moved to Salt Lake City, where I was lucky to have a past mission companion, Shawna Goulding, as a roommate. She and I both made running a part of our regular schedules. I remember the first time I ran six miles in the beautiful neighborhoods south of the University of Utah, where I was a student. I though back to President Butler’s story about his first six-mile run and was excited to have progressed to running that far too. During those years, I worked in a couple of different ski and adventure sports shops and met quite a few young men who became running, biking, and skiing pals. One of them started coaching me in running and got me into regularly running 5Ks and 10Ks. Another of them, Jim Nelson, invited me to become part of a great group of competitive endurance-sport athletes with whom he trained. I trained and raced with them for a few years. Jim was a phenomenal endurance athlete. When we first met, he was one of the top triathletes in Utah as well as being an accomplished runner and cyclist. He had previously been on the cross-country team at the University of Utah and regularly finished in the top ten in triathlons and running races in the state. On one of our outings, he took me out trail running and I was immediately hooked (on trail running).
When I was 26, Jim and I got married. I continued to compete in road 5Ks and 10Ks, Nordic ski races, and road bike races plus mountain bike races and other random events such as a series of “bike-and-tie” races (two runners, one mountain bike, leap-frog format). I also added the half marathon distance to my road running list and won or placed well in a few races here and there. For a while I had some issues with shin splints and knee problems. I hired a professional running coach, Dr. Thomas Miller—who at the time was Ph.D. candidate, I believe in sports physiology, at the University of Utah—to help me out. Dr. Miller, author of “Programmed to Run,” was an early adopter of video technology as part of identifying problems with running form. Dr. Miller video taped me running on the track at East High School (made famous by the “High School Musical” movie series) and identified a couple of problems with my form. With his help, I was able to correct those. Dr. Miller also taught me how to better mentally prepare for races. I made a lot of progress after that, and I still enjoy benefits from his coaching.
First Marathon (and BabyJogger Years!)
When Jim and I planned out our first few years together, he made a deal with me that we would start our family after three conditions were met: First, one of us had to have a job that provided good health insurance. Second, he had to finish his undergraduate degree before the baby was going to be born. Third, I had to have run my first marathon. I graduated with my BA and landed the “insurance” job, then we got to within a year of Jim’s graduation. Then when I was 27, I ran the St. George Marathon in southern Utah. A year and a week later, my first baby was born.
With BabyJogger, circa 1990
28 to 31: Before I was even pregnant, Jim and I had bought a BabyJogger running stroller. BabyJogger was THE running stroller back then. I put ours to good use. After his graduation, Jim and I moved to the outskirts of Seattle, which is where my son Andrew was born. I put a lot of miles on the BabyJogger, pushing Andrew all over the place, sometimes even racing with him in that thing. In Seattle, there was a beer ad running on TV that showed happy people playing sports out in the rain. The slogan was, “You’ve gotta make your own sunshine…” That was absolutely true a lot of the time there in the rainy Northwest. I learned how to keep Andrew dry and warm in the BabyJogger, and I doggedly kept on training, rain or overcast (“shine” was the month of August…the rest of the year was almost always either rainy or cloudy). Humid and green, it was heavenly! My running performance continued to improve and my times dropped. Pushing the BabyJogger was excellent resistance training. Then when I was 30, I got pregnant with my daughter Melissa. I had problems with preterm labor from about four months in, so I had to stop running for the rest of my pregnancy. Soon after Melissa was born, we moved back to Utah, I started a Masters program, and I started back into training and racing again.
31 to 38: Over time, I ran more marathons and became a better and better runner. I did a lot of “adventure” running, going exploring on desert and mountain trails and wherever I traveled. I competed in a lot of races each year and was methodical about my training. I started a Ph.D. program in economics, and I wove running into my class and teaching schedules. When I was 37, in the middle of grad school, I got pregnant again. During this pregnancy I was able to continue running with almost no issues at all in spite of (again) preterm labor. My midwife encouraged me to keep running and helped me to stay at at least a maintenance level of training. One thing that helped a lot was discovering pregnancy support belts. I ordered one—a wide, sturdy band that fastened with a thick patch of Velcro—through the J.C. Penney catalog (yes, it was that long ago). It made running while pregnant far more comfortable than what I had experienced during my first two pregnancies. I ran until three weeks before my son Eric was born, and I started running again three weeks after he was born. It was the strongest I had felt during or right after any of my first three pregnancies.
Ultras!!
39 to 43: When Jim and I first knew each other, we heard about a group of people who had started a 100-mile running race in the Wasatch mountains, the Wasatch Front 100 Mile Endurance Run. Jim was intrigued and decided he wanted to run Wasatch someday. Over the years, he had gradually progressed in his own running until he was ready to try out ultras. He started pacing experienced runners and then began competing in ultras, winning or finishing in the top few places at quite a few events. As Jim transitioned into running 100 milers, I paced and crewed for him. It was a blast! In fact, it was so much fun, I decided I needed to try it out myself. Soon after Eric was born, I started training for my first ultra. When I was 39, I ran the Silver State 50K in Reno, Nevada. I like to tell people that running my first ultra was like being a retriever that bit a little too hard into a duck and found out it had been being ripped off the whole time! Running ultras, as I had found out, was in many ways FAR easier than crewing and pacing for them. It was SO much fun!
As an aside, ultrarunning brought a phenomenal community into my life. I met and became life-long friends with many, many fine people. Too many to mention here, but I would be remiss if I didn’t thank my running bestie, Wendy Holdaway, and other close friends—Andrea Feucht, Lee and Debbie Moss, John Bozung, Jim Skaggs, and a host of others—for being a surrogate extended family for me. They’ve supported me and have provided a network that has kept me mostly sane and feeling loved over the past two decades. I don’t know what I would have done without my amazing ultrarunning family.
Post-Wasatch 100 Massage
After I ran that first 50K in Nevada, I quickly progressed from 50K to 50 miles and then—big deep breath—I ran my first 100 miler, the Wasatch 100. I finished Wasatch twice and the Bear 100 once, during a period of several years, and I even finished a loop at the infamous Barkley Marathons in Tennessee. Then, for many reasons, running not being one of them, Jim and I divorced.
Squaw Peak 50
43 to 49: As a single mom of three, working in a full-time, career position, plus teaching for two universities, I found it difficult to train for ultrarunning. Or, in fact, to train for any racing at all. But in spite of time crunches, stresses, and an incredibly demanding professional life, I kept running. Even if it was nothing more than three miles on the streets of my neighborhood, I kept it up. At one time, I even ran half-mile loops around our block so that I could keep an eye on my kids as I went past the house each time. I continued racing although not at the same level as before. I paced friends at bigger ultra events and continued running road races from 5Ks to marathons. The Ogden Marathon in northern Utah became an increasingly important part of my annual racing schedule over time. My times slowed, but I kept going.
Ryan – Ogden Marathon 5K
When I was 45, Ryan Pierce joined the staff where I worked. Before long, Ryan and I were spending time together. One of our first outings was a trail run in Millcreek Canyon. We ran to Dog Lake, one of my favorites. On our first Fourth of July together, we ran the 5K in North Ogden, my home town. Ryan placed well in multiple races that we ran. I was always sad that I was still running when he was crossing the finish line so that I missed seeing him racking up another great finish. We did a lot of adventure running and racing together over the next few years including outings in Death Valley, the Grand Canyon, Saint George, and other amazing places. On Valentines Day about three and a half years after we first met, Ryan took me out for a snowy-day run on my favorite local mountain trail and asked me to marry him. I said yes.
Triplets!!!
49 to today (57): With my long-time primary care physician’s blessing (he’s a talented runner)—and with some big-time medical help—I got pregnant again a year after Ryan and I got married. This time, it was *gasp* triplets!!! Being 50 years old and pregnant with triplets, I thought for sure that running was off the table. But, to my surprise, my maternal fetal medicine specialist gave me the go-ahead to keep running. Unfortunately, I blew out one of my ankles when I was four months along (I stepped on the edge of a pot hole that I didn’t see in the road) and had to stop running for the rest of my pregnancy. In the six, almost seven years since the triplets were born, it’s been really hard to keep up any kind of regular training schedule, as you can probably imagine.
At Silver Lake in Big Cottonwood Canyon
Sadly, the only Ogden Marathon I’ve missed in all its years was the year the triplets were born. I was ready to run and had even picked up my race packet, but on race morning I had been up with babies the whole night before and was too sleepy to safely drive to the bus loading zone. So I have a perfect record minus one at Ogden. When the triplets were still tiny, I bought a three-across Mountain Buggy running stroller and was able to do a lot of running while pushing them. But when they got big enough that they didn’t like being strapped in and preferred to run themselves, my own training took a nosedive. I still haven’t quite dialed-in a routine that works well for me, but I’ve never given up!
Greek Festival 5K
In spite of erratic training and more than my share of DNFs (“did not finish” races), and through a long list of injuries (that’s a story for another day), I’ve persisted in running and racing. I’ve been blessed with many great running friends. My local trail buddy, Janet Epperson, has been a constant in my running and hiking life ever since my undergraduate years at the University of Utah. Other friends, people whom I love seeing year after year at our favorite races, are constants in the background of my life. Running has brought incredible richness to my life. One of the best things has been having my older three kids run with me at different times and in different places over the years, and now the triplets have started doing some running with me as well. At times, running is the only thing that keeps me sane and (when I train well) fit.
What’s Next
In the past year, I’ve finished three ultras and a marathon. Over the next year or so, I plan to run at least four ultras and two or three marathons. Due in large part to my lack of solid training, my speed has slowed and my finish times have increased. I think I can get back some speed, if I work for it, and I’d love to see what I could accomplish in races if I could get my life better organized. It’s a daily struggle! Regardless, my dream for the future is to keep running for as long as possible. Ideally, I will quit running the day before I drop dead as I approach (or soon after I have passed) my 100th birthday. Wish me luck!
*Officially, ultrarunning races are running events at distances beyond a standard marathon, which is 26.2 miles.
In Capitol Reef National Park in Utah, there’s a deep rock canyon that runs for miles in the backcountry, winding through soaring walls of sedimentary geologic formations in a roughly east-west direction,somewhat parallel to Utah Highway 24. Capitol Reef is just east of Torrey, a small town that toggles between agriculture and tourism. In Fall, at the end of tourist season, restaurants close, motels and other dial back their operations, and things quiet down in town. In Spring, the process reverses. In a previous job, I had the opportunity on several occasions to work in Torrey for a week in June, co-teaching a workshop course for new employees just prior to the ramp up for the summer tourism season. Another of the instructors, Tony, was also a runner, and one evening after teaching he and I decided to go for an adventure run in Spring Canyon.
We did some map scouting and found the spot where the downstream mouth of the canyon opens up into the main canyon that passes through the national park.The lower entrance into the canyon is hidden. It’s screened off by trees, brush, rock, and layers of sediment, deposited over millennia and then sliced through by the Fremont River, invisible to passers-by on the highway through the park. If I hadn’t seen it on a map, I wouldn’t have had any idea it existed. Armed with directions to the location, we drove to a small pull-out on the side of the highway,parked, walked back up the road a bit, and then waded across a shallow, wide place in Fremont River to where we scrambled up a steep mud bank, maybe six or so feet high, to reach the level of the main Spring Canyon floor. We bushwacked through something like a quarter mile of thick brush, pushing through sharp vegetation and thorns,low-hanging tree branches and leaves, and piles of woody debris on the ground.
But then something magical happened: The underbrush and trees ended, and the narrow canyon suddenly opened up in front of us, a cool, shaded, quiet sanctuary with a sandy bottom that was perfect for running. I wouldn’t call it a crack canyon, but it is fairly narrow in places.We ran for a few miles up-stream in the canyon, dodging around occasional puddles and muddy sections on the canyon floor. Mixed into the sandy surface, there were small- to medium-sized rocks made from materials that definitely didn’t belong in the canyon. Black pebbles that were clearly from a volcanic source were spread around, I assume having been washed down into the canyon from the mountains above to the west. There were also metamorphic stones; smooth, hard rocks in an array of colors, both muted and bright, none of which belonged in a sedimentary environment. The whole thing was stunningly beautiful.
At one point along the way, we noticed high on one of the rock walls a formation that looked something like a wave or the side profile of a partially-unrolled jelly roll, cut through to show the inward spiral of cake and filling. It was mind-boggling. How in the world did multicolored layers of rock end up in that inward-curling pattern,embedded in sand that later became solid rock? Trying to imagine what possible events or processes could have left that formation there was one of the highlights of the run.
Beautiful Spring Canyon
Tony and I ran upstream until we knew we absolutely HAD to turn back to avoid running out of light before we reached the car again. We didn’t have any headlamps or flashlights with us, so we were kind of stuck with a hard time limit. We reluctantly turned around and retraced our steps, ending with another slog across the cold river and a short walk to the car from the south-western river bank. It had been one of the best runs of my life.
I’ve been back to that part of Spring Canyon a few times since my first time. I took my oldest three kids there one October when we went to Torrey for a quickie vacation during fall break at school. They complained about the river crossing and the bushwhacking, but when the canyon opened up, it was as magical for them as it had been for Tony and me. We ran and ran and ran. My boys did some “high-pointing,” running in arcs on the lower sloping sides of the rock walls and then back down onto the sandy canyon floor. It was like a giant playground for us. Beyond cool. On another, later visit, I took my now-husband Ryan there. Our relationship was new, and I wasn’t sure whether he would be as “into” the canyon as I was. I needn’t have worried; he was. It was one more amazing run in what had become one of my favorite places on Earth.
Workshop Outing
On another visit during yet another edition of the same workshop, I ran with some co-instructors and students into the middle part of the canyon,accessed from the Chimney Rock trail not far into the park on the Torrey side. While the run was fun and the scenery gorgeous, it wasn’t quite the same as the lower section I had come to love.
Wedding Dress Number One
Several years after Ryan and I had our first Spring Canyon run together, I was back in Torrey to co-instruct at another session of the new employees workshop. This time, I didn’t have anyone to take with me to Spring Canyon. I also didn’t have time for running. I was on a mission during my off hours: I was sewing my wedding dress. My mom and I sewed both of my wedding dresses. The first, for a February wedding, was a slipper satin, long-sleeved classic design. The second, for my upcoming second wedding, was still an unknown with less than two weeks until my wedding day. Yikes!
When I packed my car for that June workshop week, I loaded a large folding table, piles of fabric, bridal magazines, sewing patterns, two sewing machines, assorted sewing supplies and accessories, and my dress mannequin. On my first night in my two-room motel suite, I paged through the magazines, cutting out pictures and making notes until I had settled on a design for my dress. My wedding was in just a little over a week, and I had no time to waste. I set up my sewing room and got to work on creating the dress.
But there was one problem. I realized soon after I started cutting out fabric for the skirt that I needed another layer of fabric for an underskirt. Because I hadn’t decided on a design before leaving home, I hadn’t realized I would need that. Hmmmm. I was in a very small town in are mote part of Utah. The closest fabric store (or store of any kind that sold fabric) was hours away, and I didn’t have time for that kind of driving. I needed to be sewing!
I paced around the room, trying to come up with options. I needed quite a few yards of sturdy white fabric. And then, in a “Sound-of-Music-Maria-play-clothes-esque” moment, it occurred to me that the fabric that the king-sized sheets on my motel bed were made of would be perfect! I went to the motel’s front desk and asked whether I could buy two of their king-sized flat sheets from them. I told them my story and explained my predicament. To my surprise and relief, they refused to sell the sheets to me but gave them to me as a gift instead. What a kind gesture! I was really taken aback and grateful.
The Dress with the Sheet in It
Over the next few days, I cut out and sewed my dress. It wasn’t quite all the way done when I packed again to leave Torrey at the end of the week, but it was close enough that I knew my mom and I would be able to finish it in the week that would be left after I was back home in northern Utah. I wish I could say that following week was perfect, but it wasn’t. My drive home and the week that followed, leading up to Ryan’s and my wedding, were overshadowed by the tragic, unnecessary death of my three-year-old grandniece. But that’s a sad story for another time.
So Torrey and Capitol Reef hold a special place in my memories and in my heart. They’re connected with some of my favorite as well as saddest times with my friends, my children, my husband, and my inner life, and I was married with a bit of Torrey sewn into my wedding dress. Two years after the sheets episode, I returned to the little motel in Torrey, new triplet babies, nanny, and piles of baby supplies in tow. It was sweet staying with my new babies in the same place again where I had sewed my dress. I can’t wait until those triplets are old and big enough to take them to Capitol Reef to wade the Fremont River so I can show them the beauty of lower Spring Canyon. It’s pure magic!
There’s a special kind of insanity that takes over the minds of habitual runners. Even when we’re not running at all due to one life circumstance or another, we think about running, dream about running, and long for the day when we can return to regular running.
In spite of occasional stretches of time during which I haven’t been able to run, running has been a constant in my life for more than forty years. I was sixteen when I started my official running career (leaving out the running I did as part of regular play as a child). I remember being intrigued by news stories about the “jogging” craze. I asked my mom to take me downtown to buy a pair of running shoes. She did. She bought a pair of white Adidas for me at one of the big department stores. The shoes were made out of thin material and had very thin soles with zero arch or metatarsal support. Most of today’s runners would probably refer to them as racing flats. I was definitely not a racer, but I loved those shoes.
Happy Runner
I very first started out running by alternating running and walking around our “block,” a distance of one mile. It took me a while, but over time the walking segments were shorter and shorter and the running segments were longer and longer. Eventually, I was running the whole distance. I was a runner.
