As I reflect on the incredible leaders and high-performing teams I have connected with recently, I keep coming back to a foundational truth I learned on the ice: the best teams do not just chase success - they embrace the friction that comes with it.
On the surface, my career can look like a highlight reel of Olympic moments and medals. But if you look closer, it was a decade-and-a-half commitment to the grind - the pressure of insane goals, the crucial nature of a 4 a.m. training session, and the gut-check moments after a devastating crash. I learned quickly that the gold medal is not the goal. It is the byproduct of a disciplined, repeatable process that you commit to even when no one is watching.
When I talk about friction, I am talking about the things we instinctively want to avoid: the hard conversations, the missed targets, the meetings where you wish you had shown up differently. On the short track, friction is literal - it is the chaotic, razor-thin space between a champion’s lean and a pile-up in the corner. You learn to control what you can control. You build a callus on the mind, a mental toughness that does not panic when the entire race goes sideways. Every time I sit with a leadership team that is willing to lean into that kind of friction, I walk away with more respect for the process and more belief in what people are capable of when they stop running from the heat.
My journey was not a straight line. Early in my career, I was completely unprepared for the 1998 Olympic Trials. I finished last. I had let the discipline slip, and I paid for it in a very public way. That moment - that humiliating, painful defeat - was a turning point. I had a choice: quit, or fully commit. I chose commitment. I realized that talent is never enough.
It is about showing up every single day, especially when you feel like you are stuck or going nowhere. My success was never just about speed. It was about strategy, resilience, and the willingness to get back up again and again. I did not just win a silver medal in Salt Lake City in 2002; I earned that silver in a race where four guys went down in the last corner and I was on the ice, literally flinging my body across the finish line. That was not luck. That was the ingrained habit of never quitting - a Zero Regrets mentality that says, “I gave everything I had down to the last millimeter.”
That is the perspective I bring into the room when I speak with teams and leaders. You can have all the right intentions, the best slide decks, the perfect offsite agenda, but if the motivational talks you rely on are not grounded in the reality of struggle, they become background noise. I do not talk about performance as a theory. I talk about the transformation that happens when people learn to respond to pressure instead of reacting to it.
My philosophy, Zero Regrets, is just as relevant in the boardroom as it is on the ice. It comes down to a simple, uncomfortable question: did you do everything you could today to be your best?
Over the years, I have studied and shared stages with many of the best inspirational speakers, and one thing is clear: the stories that resonate most are not the polished victories, but the honest breakdowns of what it took to get there. Whether you are racing for gold or competing for market share, the principles of high performance do not change. The struggle gives you perspective, and that perspective gives you the power to pivot, adapt, and win.
That is also what separates the best inspirational speakers. It is not just about delivering a powerful moment on stage. It is about translating lived experience into frameworks that your team can actually use on Monday morning.
The ultimate lesson I learned from speed skating is this: the only way to become stronger and more resilient is to stop running from resistance. The fire you instinctively avoid - the uncomfortable feedback, the hard work, the tough strategic choices, the painful setbacks - that is your training ground.
The gold medal is just a milestone. Sustainable excellence comes from the daily decision to commit to the process, especially when it feels inconvenient or unrewarding in the moment. Your team’s relationship with friction - how they handle pressure, challenge, and uncertainty - is one of your greatest competitive advantages.
So here is my challenge to you and your team: do not just tolerate friction - embrace it. Choose one hard piece of friction you will not avoid this week. Have the conversation. Rebuild the system. Own the mistake. Lean into the heat and commit fully to the process. When you do, you stop passively hoping for success and start forging it, one decision at a time.
Walk through the fire. That is where the real game is played.