The first call usually comes before sunrise. Crews check in. Weather shifts. Materials are staged. Jennifer Diamond reviews the plan and asks the same question every time: “What could fail today, and how do we prevent it?” She learned to think this way on job sites across the West, where waterproofing and bridge deck repair cannot wait for perfect conditions. “Infrastructure sets its own schedule,” she says. “You respect the clock, or the clock teaches you.”
Discipline carries across worlds
Diamond’s life runs on discipline. She leads ProTech Coatings Inc. and ProTech Infrastructure as President and CEO. She also owns Diamond Equestrian Center, an English riding farm where her daughter, Claire Marie Diamond, competes at a national level. The through line is simple. Precision matters. Small choices compound. “Whether it is a joint on a bridge or a line to a jump, the details decide the day,” she says.
From Salt Lake roots to steel and concrete
Diamond grew up in Salt Lake City. Her mother, Sally Siddoway, worked in pharmaceuticals. Her father, Lynn Wahlquist, practiced law. She is one of four siblings, alongside Heather, Jonathan, and Jill. Family life mixed academics with athletics. Ski seasons were full. Marathons and Ironman training shaped routines. That mindset traveled with her to the University of Utah, where she earned a Bachelor of Science in Architecture in 1997.
While still early in her career, she stepped into leadership at ProTech. The company focused on waterproofing, bridge decks, and highway restoration. The work sounds narrow. It is not. It touches public safety, commerce, and daily life. “If we do our job, most people never notice us,” Diamond says. “That is the goal.”
A clock, a storm, a cure time
One story still guides her teams. A summer storm rolled in faster than forecasts suggested. A bridge deck was mid-application. The crew had minutes to adjust or risk a failed cure. Diamond shifted the sequence, redeployed equipment, and bought time for the system to set. The deck held. The delay was measured in hours, not weeks. “We planned for what we could not control,” she says. “That is a habit you build, not a trick you pull.”
Equestrian life as a second classroom
Diamond’s other classroom is the barn. She launched Diamond Equestrian Center as a place to train, learn, and care for horses. She is a horse show mom, a facility owner, and an organizer. Her daughter Claire is a nationally ranked show jumper. The barn teaches a different kind of leadership. “Horses read you,” Diamond says. “They notice your focus. They notice your doubt. You learn to be calm and clear.”
She supports rescue work as well, backing All Seated In A Barn. The cause is straightforward. Save horses from slaughter and place them in safe, caring homes. “Progress is a series of small, consistent actions,” she says. “That is true in rescue. That is true in business.”
A ring walk and a reset
At a major show, Claire faced a tough track. The first round rode long. Tension grew. Between rounds, mother and daughter walked the ring in quiet. No speeches. No new plan. Just a reset. Claire went clear in the jump-off. “Sometimes the best coaching is less,” Diamond says. “You remove noise so the work can show.”
How architecture shaped her management
Diamond’s architecture training influences how she runs projects. She moves from form to function to flow. She asks how sequencing, materials, and environment interact over time. She values field notes as much as forecasts. “Drawings are promises,” she says. “Execution turns them into places people can trust.”
What she teaches her teams
Teams at ProTech and ProTech Infrastructure hear the same principles often.
- Start early.
- Check assumptions.
- Respect cure times and safety limits.
- Communicate in simple language.
- Leave the site cleaner than you found it.
“People remember how you leave a job,” Diamond says. “That is your signature.”
Community and identity
Salt Lake City still anchors her life. The Wasatch front is where she skis, trains, and works. It is where the barn community meets after long show weekends. It is where road crews finish overnight pours before the morning commute. The city gives her both pace and patience.
Diamond focuses on durable systems and durable people. Infrastructure is aging in many regions. Weather is less predictable. Labor is tight. She sees a future for companies that build depth, train well, and stay honest about risk. “You do the unglamorous work, and you keep learning,” she says. “That is how you earn trust.”
Jennifer Diamond’s path is not a straight line. It is a braid of public works and equestrian sport, of family and field notes, of early alarms and late barn checks. The theme is steady. Discipline travels. Precision compounds. And the things we build, if we care for them, carry others safely forward.
Interview with Jennifer Diamond
What’s one lesson from the construction world that shaped how you lead?
I learned early that the work is unforgiving. Concrete cures on its own clock, not yours. Weather changes fast. If you don’t respect those limits, you lose time and money. That discipline—plan ahead, adapt quickly, and never cut corners—guides how I manage everything.
You balance infrastructure projects with running an equestrian center. How do those worlds connect?
They seem different, but they share a core truth: details matter. On a highway deck, a missed joint can cause failures. In the ring, a sloppy stride costs you the round. Both demand focus, patience, and consistency. Horses remind me to stay calm under pressure. Crews remind me to stay precise.
Can you share a behind-the-scenes moment when things almost went wrong on a job?
One summer storm hit while we were mid-application on a bridge deck. We had minutes to react. We shifted equipment, covered sections, and bought just enough time for the system to cure. The public never knew how close it was. Those nights remind me that preparation is everything.
What’s a memorable experience from supporting your daughter Claire in show jumping?
At one show, her first round was rough. We walked the ring quietly before the jump-off—no pep talk, just space to reset. She went back in and rode a clear round. That moment taught me sometimes the best support is silence.
What has endurance sports in your family taught you about business?
We grew up around marathons and triathlons. It wasn’t about speed, it was about pacing and finishing. Business feels the same. Success is about stamina, not shortcuts. You prepare for the long haul, and you keep moving even when it’s hard.
What do you hope people remember about your work and your legacy?
That we built things that lasted—whether it was a bridge deck that held up under traffic, a barn where riders felt safe, or a company culture that valued integrity. If people can trust what you built, that’s a legacy worth leaving.
