There is another story from these Olympic Games that gave me chills: that of Alysa Liu.
At 13, Alysa Liu became the youngest U.S. national champion in history. At 16, she finished sixth at the Beijing Olympics.
She was a prodigy. But her life did not belong to her. She was told what to eat, what to wear, what music to skate to, and when to train. She lived alone in a dormitory, and it’s not hard to imagine the cost of all this: she was deeply unhappy.
So she retired. She was only 16. She was traumatized by the sport. She didn’t want to go near an ice rink again.
She had lost something essential: the feeling that this was hers.
So she did the only thing you can do when you lose yourself: she went looking for herself elsewhere.
She went to Nepal.
She went trekking.
She got her driver’s license.
She dyed her hair.
She enrolled in university.
She lived.
She built an identity that did not depend on skating.
She discovered who she was as a human being.
Then, at the beginning of 2024, while skiing, something happened: she felt a surge of adrenaline. A sensation she hadn’t felt in two years. And she wondered: if skiing makes me feel this way, what would I feel skating again?
She went to a public session. Two weeks later, she was back in training.
But this time, on her terms.
Today, she chooses her own music, designs her own costumes, and regulates her own training load.
She came back because she wanted to.
Alysa Liu claims Olympic gold in figure skating at Milano-Cortina 2026
We push young talents to become crushing machines, impeccable, disciplined, efficient. But often we fail to realize that, in trying to make them invincible, we end up extinguishing the very thing that makes them alive: the flame.
Alex Bellini
In an interview, she said, “I choose to be here. I loved being able to come back and choose my own destiny.”
And on February 19, she delivered the best performance of her career. She achieved the highest score she had ever received and won the gold medal.
We often misunderstand performance.
We think the path to greatness requires more control, more structure, more sacrifice. We push young talents to become crushing machines, to be disciplined—without realising that, in doing so, we extinguish the very flames that drive them.
Everyone wants to know the secret to peak performance. Yesterday, I realised it isn’t complicated: you have to give people ownership over what they do. You have to allow them to bring themselves into the performance, instead of suffocating their joy and authenticity.
Alysa Liu retired at 16 because skating was no longer hers.
She won Olympic gold at 20 because, finally, it was.