Lessons in Mental Toughness from Olympic Ice

Nothing dates you more than your first Olympic memory. For me, it was watching Dorothy Hammel at the Winter Olympics in Innsbruck, Austria, and the perfection of Nadia Comaneci during the Summer Games in Montreal, as a child. When you are young, you fantasize about representing your country and hearing the national anthem play while you are victorious. As a middle-aged man, you marvel at the skill and commitment these athletes have. I am also aware of the horrific pressure they must face when competing in front of a global audience. In the business community, we should pay attention to some of those lessons.

Grace and Joy Under Pressure –

Today, many people see Tara Lapinski as a broadcaster and camp icon with her partner, Johny Wier. In 1998, she was a 15-year-old girl skating for Gold at the 1998 Nagano Olympics. Broadcaster Rich Eisen remarked that she wore blue eyeshadow and sequins but had the seriousness of a boxer after eight rounds punching someone in the face. The image of her getting ready to skate in the Olympics for the free program still sticks with me. I have not seen a look like that before or since.

Figure skaters have an impossible job. They must be graceful and artistic while performing physically demanding, death-defying jumps. Finally, they must make it look easy. The mental toughness required to be a figure skater is superhuman. The national pride involved in Olympic competition adds another layer of pressure, often leading to doping and abusive coaching practices. The 2022 games in Beijing were a glum affair, in which the Olympic champion cried alone while a Russian coach chided her teammate for not meeting expectations and for not earning a silver medal. Women's figure skating looked like a conspiracy to abuse young girls for national pride and a win-at-all-costs ethos.

It is why I am so grateful for what happened when Amber Glenn, Isabeau Levito, and Alysa Liu represented the USA in 2026. All of them are fantastic athletes, but they were better teammates, supporting each other and providing a quirky level of energy throughout the games. Glenn was honest with herself when she did not meet expectations, taking personal responsibility and finding her center during a media and personal whirlwind. She also protected other skaters when the press wanted to invade their most painful moments. I also like her because she is an avid Magic: The Gathering player. If Wizards of the Coast knew what was good for them, they would send her a free box of boosters with each new printing as long as she lives. She is an amazing ambassador for figure skating and collectible card games.

Lots of ink is being spilled about Alysa Liu, and her story is remarkable, but what makes her gold-medal journey remarkable is how different it is from Tara Lapinski's. Liu returned to skating after burning out following her last Olympics. When she decided to return, she called the shots and said that if she did not enjoy herself, she would stop. She saw her fellow skaters as teammates rather than rivals. Finally, she saw her skating as a way to entertain others rather than a competition she had to win. She was her own woman, willing to do it her way regardless of the outcome. We need more women like Liu and Glenn in competition and in our corporate offices because they show us how to rise above stress and find joy in the most difficult circumstances.

The hidden work –

Every Olympics, I am a curling nerd. I lock in for two weeks and enjoy people playing a strategic version of shuffleboard on ice. I understand curling is a national religion in Canada, but I always root for Team USA. What makes the curling so compelling is that, in many respects, they are similar to us mere mortals watching at home. What we do not see is the invisible work they do outside of competition. They get up early in the morning to practice and then work their regular jobs. Unfortunately, the US Olympic Committee does not sponsor the Olympic team, so they must work day jobs.

Olympic curlers are anonymous for four years before their two-week spotlight at the Olympics. Learning to sweep ice and throw three regulation bowling balls' worth of weight across a rink is an exacting skill, and I respect those skills. The Men's, Women's, and Mixed Doubles teams put in the work not for money but for a fleeting chance to be the best in the world. It is a worthy ambition, and I am here for it and the hidden work they do. Silent workers like this deserve more respect in a culture that rewards bragging.

Devotion and Disappointment –

Being an Olympic athlete is all-consuming. It takes a level of devotion that many of us lack. The emotional regulation required to perform under pressure is staggering. So I want to express my gratitude to all the American athletes who have conducted themselves with a level of class and sportsmanship that should serve as an example to everyone. It is heartbreaking to experience disappointment, but all of the American athletes can hold their heads high, knowing they represented their nation with excellent sportsmanship, win or lose.

Plenty of things feel broken right now, but the actions of our American Winter Olympians show me that business and culture in general will heal. And people like our Winter Olympians will lead the way.

Until next time.