
Failure doesn’t have to be the end of the story. It doesn’t have to define who we are or dictate what comes next. I learned this early in my life as an athlete, long before I ever became interested in venture investing, executive leadership coaching or on stage as a motivational speaker. Failure was one of my first real teachers, and as painful as those lessons were, they shaped everything that followed.
When I look back now, I think of failure as something the body and mind can actually metabolize. Just like our bodies break down food into energy and strength, our experiences, especially the difficult ones, can be broken down into clarity, direction, and fresh drive. But only if we’re willing to face them honestly.
I had to learn this the hard way. And that journey reshaped not only how I trained, but how I lived, competed, and eventually how I began sharing these ideas as a professional speaker.
I still remember the moment I failed to make the first Olympic team I ever tried out for. The silence in the room felt so heavy that it almost pressed into my chest. There was disappointment, fear, and even a level of disgust with myself because I truly believed I had let everything slip away.
Those emotions weren’t pretty. They weren’t heroic. They were human.
But that silence, the shock, the hurt, that was the beginning of the digestion phase. It was the moment everything slowed down long enough for me to actually feel what had happened. That pause mattered. It was uncomfortable, but it gave me the space to reflect instead of react.
Looking back, that was the first step in what I now think of as the metabolism of failure.
We don’t grow by pretending everything is fine. We grow by acknowledging the truth with honesty and humility.
After that first big failure in my skating career, I spent time sitting with the discomfort. I replayed the mistakes. I felt the weight of what didn’t work. That wasn’t self-punishment. It was awareness.
Those quiet moments became the groundwork for everything else - the foundation for the rebirth of my commitment.
In every setback, there is usable data. Failure reveals something that success often hides. I call this step Extract the Nutrients because it mirrors what the body does when it breaks down food. It takes what it needs and discards the rest.
A poorly skated race wasn’t just a loss - it was feedback. It told me where I was mentally, how prepared I was physically, and what habits were working against me. When I finally looked at failure as something instructional instead of destructive, everything shifted. Suddenly, I wasn’t crushed by the disappointment. I was fueled by the information.
This is the mindset I love sharing now, when I give energy and focus into the heart of each company we work with it is truly fulfilling. Simply put, on stage we focus on how we can increase the quality of our life - be it challenging, or sweet, it’s up to us to metabolize this vs letting it paralyze us from taking any action. Via inspirational talks, that the real power in failure is unlocked the moment we choose to analyze instead of agonize.
Lessons alone aren’t enough. We have to convert them into action.
For me, that meant training smarter, sharpening my discipline, and reinventing how I approached every race. At certain points, it even meant redefining what success looked like - not because I was lowering the bar, but because I was learning to adapt.
Failure became energy. Energy became movement. Movement became momentum.
And that momentum carried me into the next chapter of my life - not only as an athlete but eventually as a motivational speaker who could look people in the eye and say, “I get it. I’ve been there. You’re not alone in this.”
What I learned on the ice applied seamlessly to the world of business and leadership. Anytime I work with teams or organizations, I see the same patterns play out.
Here’s what the process looks like off the ice:
Ask:
Blame keeps you stuck. Debriefing keeps you moving.
Failure isn’t identity. It’s information. When people stop personalizing failure, they stop carrying emotional weight that doesn’t serve them.
Some of the greatest innovations, partnerships, and new strategies are born after a setback clears the illusions blocking the path. A crisis can be a catalyst, but only if we choose to see it that way.
These are ideas I share often in my role as a professional speaker, because I’ve seen companies and individuals transform when they view failure not as a dead end but as a doorway.
Even the brain supports this truth. In peak performance training, we know that flow states, those moments when everything fires perfectly, usually arrive after a struggle phase. The brain needs that friction. It needs the confusion, the difficulty, the challenge. That tension is what primes us for a breakthrough.
So yes, failure hurts. But neurologically, emotionally, and mentally, it also opens a window for higher performance.
When I speak about this on stage as a motivational speaker, I’m not sharing theory. I’m sharing experience backed by science and lived through countless cycles of loss and renewal.
Crisis doesn’t have to break us. It can redefine us. And the best performers - athletes, founders, CEOs, creators - are the ones who understand that every breakdown contains a choice point.
We can freeze. We can quit. Or we can convert.
I chose to convert. Not because I was stronger or more talented, but because I learned to see failure as fuel. And once I embraced that, I stopped fearing the struggle and began respecting the process.
That mindset carried me through Olympic cycles, global competitions, and every major transition in my career, including the chapter where I stepped into the world of inspirational talks to share these lessons with others.
Failure can be metabolized. But the process requires intention:
This is not just an athletic philosophy. It’s a human one.
And it’s a message I carry with me in every room, every conversation, and every stage where I speak as a professional speaker dedicated to helping people reach their highest potential.
Because failure isn’t the final chapter. It’s simply the part of the story where the real transformation begins.