Trust Your Training: Leadership Lessons from the Olympics

I’ve always loved the Olympics.

I’m a huge fan of Lindsey Vonn and Simone Biles. And from the very first moment of the Opening Ceremony to the last seconds of the Closing Ceremony, I’m usually glued to the TV. I’ve been that way since I was a kid.

When I was younger, I dreamed about becoming an Olympic athlete. I loved the idea of representing something bigger than myself. Now, I’d be happy just to sit in the stands and soak it in. There’s something about the Olympics that feels sacred, like we’re watching the very best version of what humans are capable of.

And over the years, we’ve also seen how quickly the world reacts to that kind of potential.

In 2021, when Simone Biles withdrew from competition because of the twisties, the criticism was immediate. People who couldn’t do a cartwheel on a good day suddenly had opinions about mental toughness. Fast forward to Lindsey Vonn competing with a torn ACL, and the criticism flipped. Now she was reckless. She should have stepped back.

Same world. Same megaphone. Completely different narrative.

If a woman protects her peace, she’s weak. If she pushes through pain, she’s irresponsible. If she pivots, she’s indecisive. If she perseveres, she’s stubborn.

There’s rarely room for context. And almost never room for the internal reality behind the decision.

As a former competitive gymnast, I understand something that most couch critics don’t. Only you can feel what’s happening in your body. Only you know whether the risk is manageable or dangerous. Only you understand the full picture.

How Doubt Impacts Leadership

I was watching Olympic ski jumping with my husband this year. One athlete was sitting at the top of the ramp, completely still, preparing to launch. My husband looked at me and asked, “Do you think they sit up there questioning what they’re doing? Do they get scared looking down?”

That question stayed with me.

I spent fifteen years in the gym. I started at three years old. At one point, I was even recruited by Béla Károlyi to train in Texas, which, looking back, might have been a bullet dodged.

What I remember most about those years isn’t the medals. It’s the mental discipline.

In gymnastics, the moment doubt creeps in, things get dangerous. If you hesitate mid-air, the skill you’ve practiced thousands of times can fall apart. A landing that was automatic suddenly isn’t.

And leadership isn’t that different.

When you let someone else’s fear become your own, your trajectory shifts. When you internalize criticism from people who have never attempted what you’re attempting, your focus moves away from execution and toward managing perception.

That’s when mistakes happen.

A ski jumper can’t afford to carry the crowd’s hesitation into their launch.

Leaders can’t either.

Everyone Has an Opinion

It still amazes me how comfortable people are critiquing athletes from their couches. A figure skater doesn’t hold her head quite right during a spin, and suddenly everyone’s an expert because a commentator pointed it out.

It’s easy to analyze when you’re not the one on the ice.

The people with the least amount of risk involved often have the strongest opinions. And in your career, you will encounter critics who have never stood where you stand. They haven’t carried the pressure, the responsibility, or the weight of your decisions.

That doesn’t stop them from having something to say.

We’ve been taught that resilience means taking the hits and pushing through no matter what. But watching Simone and Lindsey, I see something more nuanced than that.

Simone pivoted because she understood the risk better than anyone else. Lindsey continued because she understood her limits and still believed she could compete safely.

Both decisions required courage.

Resilience isn’t about proving something to the crowd. It’s about knowing yourself well enough to make the right call, even when it’s unpopular.

Leadership Is Not a Performance

The public didn’t care about what Simone was experiencing internally. They wanted a display of toughness. They didn’t care about Lindsey’s calculation of risk. They wanted a different storyline.

And leadership can easily fall into the same trap.

It’s tempting to make decisions based on optics. To choose what looks strong rather than what actually is sustainable. To perform toughness for people who aren’t responsible for the consequences.

But leadership isn’t about performing for the audience. 

The people in the stands will always have opinions. They’ll question your boundaries, your ambition, your pace. But they aren’t the ones stepping off the edge.

They’re not the ones who will feel the impact of the landing.

The women we remember, the ones who make history, are the ones who trusted themselves when it mattered.

Trust Your Internal Data

At the top of a ski jump, there’s a quiet moment before the athlete moves. No one else can feel what they’re feeling in that second. The crowd can’t. The commentators can’t.

Only the athlete knows if something is off.

Leadership has those moments too.

The decision to pivot.
The decision to continue.
The decision to protect your peace.
The decision to push through discomfort.

From the outside, they may look similar. Internally, they’re very different.

Drive Her Forward isn’t about teaching women to be louder or tougher for the sake of optics. It’s about helping women build the internal confidence and fortitude to trust their own judgment.

Because when you’re standing at the top of the jump, the only things that will help you are training, experience, and awareness. 

You’ve put in the years. You understand the speed, the height, and the risk better than anyone watching from the sidelines.

Trust that.

And when it’s time to move, move.

If you want to strengthen your executive presence and lead with conviction, that’s exactly what we build inside Executive Presence & Strategic Influence.

You don’t need to perform. You need to lead.

👉 Explore the course here:
https://www.driveherforward.com/course-executive-presence-and-strategic-influence