This article is part of Third Factor’s Story Behind the Story series, in which we unpack the stories behind both iconic and under-the-radar Olympic and Paralympic moments. In this feature, Olympian and Third Factor Associate Trainer Karyn Garossino discusses the importance of control and how it shaped her approach to competing at the Olympics.

“In high-performance sport, and in fact much of all high performance, consistency is the holy grail.”

–Karyn Garossino

From the outside, Karyn and Rod Garossino’s ice dancing performance at the 1988 Calgary Olympics looked like a hometown dream. A brother and sister from rural Alberta. Competing for Canada. An Olympics on home ice. Five flawless performances on the biggest stage in sport. What people saw was excellence. What they did not see was how hard it was to stay steady enough to deliver it. For Karyn, the Olympics were shaped by two moments she could never have predicted. One came before the competition even began, while athletes waited to enter the opening ceremonies. The other came standing at centre ice, when a roaring hometown crowd would not stop cheering. Together, these moments revealed something essential about high performance: preparation matters, but so does an ability to adapt when things do not go as planned.

From Carstairs to the Olympic Stage

Karyn and her brother Rod grew up in Carstairs, Alberta, where skating was simply part of Prairie life. What started as a love of the sport became a serious pursuit, supported by strong coaching, family commitment, and years of disciplined training. In 1981, the pair won junior ice dance gold at the Canadian National Skating Championships, and throughout the decade, they competed at the highest level in Canadian, international and World Championships. Then Calgary won the bid to host the 1988 Olympic Games. Suddenly, the idea of competing at a hometown Games became real. As that moment got closer, so did the pressure. Like many athletes facing a once-in-a-lifetime moment, Karyn prepared not only physically but mentally for what it would feel like to perform under a global spotlight.

Different Fabric. Same Cloth.

One of Karyn’s most vivid Olympic memories came before the competition started. Athletes from around the world gathered in a staging area ahead of the opening ceremonies. Each team was dressed in its country’s colours. But as the wait stretched on, things got a little playful: jackets were briefly traded, hats and scarves were exchanged, and the differences between teams started to fade.

“We were wearing different fabric, but were cut from the same cloth.”

What Karyn felt in that moment was a deep sense of connection and the awe of belonging to the historic Olympic movement. These athletes represented different nations, but they shared similarities – years of sacrifice, discipline, routine, and the pursuit of excellence. In her words, “we were wearing different fabric, but were cut from the same cloth.” One by one the nations left to join the ceremonies saving the host country to march in last. Then Team Canada entered the stadium. The sound of 85,000 people thundered through the building. In that instant, she realized something else: This was not just her Olympics, or even just the athletes’ Olympics It was our Games. The moment belonged to everyone who had made it possible: athletes, coaches, families, volunteers, organizers, sponsors, and an entire country. What she expected to feel as an individual competitor became something much bigger: the incredible honour of wearing red and white and representing the extraordinary collective effort of a nation.

The Crowd Wouldn’t Stop Cheering

If the opening ceremonies created awe, the competition brought a different kind of pressure. When Karyn and Rod were announced onto centre ice, the crowd erupted. That part was expected. What was not was that the cheering didn’t stop. Normally, once skaters take their position, the arena quiets and the music begins. But this audience kept cheering, waving flags, and feeding even more energy into the building. The music could not start until the arena settled, so Karyn and Rod stood in position and waited. And waited. For a brief instant, they felt the weight of what was happening. They exchanged a smile and a shared realization: Oh my God, we’re at the Olympics. It was a deeply human moment. But it was also risky. Because even positive energy can get in the way of performance. The challenge was not only handling fear or adversity. It was managing excitement, emotion, and the significance of the moment. Karyn knew they had to get back to what they had trained for. They turned to breathwork, a skill they had practised for years to steady themselves under pressure. Within three exhales, they were back in form. Their activation level dropped. Their focus returned. Their physiology settled. The crowd eventually quieted, the music began, and they performed brilliantly. They achieved a 12th-place Olympic finish. The next year, they would win gold at the senior Canadian Championships. Looking back, what lessons did Karyn learn from her Olympic experience that are helpful to anyone facing high-performance situations? Here, she helps us understand three practical takeaways:

Lesson #1: Consistency Is Built Before the Moment

Karyn describes consistency as the holy grail of high performance: the ability to deliver what you are capable of in any condition, not just ideal ones. That consistency was built long before the moment arrived. Karyn and Rod prepared not only their skating but also their mindset. Through imagery and planning, they anticipated the noise, emotion, and pressure of the Games so they would not be overwhelmed. That is a critical lesson for any high achiever – whether in sports or business. The goal is not to hope everything goes perfectly. It is to be ready when it doesn’t. Consistency is not about controlling the environment. It is about training how to respond to it. Listen to Karyn describe how consistency is built before the moment:

Lesson #2: Control What You Can Control

One of Karyn’s clearest lessons from Calgary is simple: high performers must learn to distinguish between what they can control and what they cannot. She could not control the crowd. She could not make the audience quiet down. She could not change the scale of the moment. What she could control was her own internal state. That distinction matters because pressure grows when we fixate on things we cannot change. Recovery begins when we return to what we can manage: our breathing, our attention, our preparation, and our next move. In that moment on the ice, the solution for Karyn was not to fight the environment. It was to return to the training that brought her to the Games. Listen to Karyn distinguish what you can control and what you cannot:

Lesson #3: Breathwork Is a Performance Skill

Karyn is clear that the breathing exercise she used in Calgary was not improvised. She had practised it for years. Its purpose was to manage the body when the outside world became overwhelming. Slow, controlled breathing gave her a direct way to regulate her physiology and recover focus. Her method was simple: breathe low and breathe slow. Under pressure, breathing rises high into the chest and speeds up. But when breathing starts lower in the body, from the diaphragm, and the exhale lasts longer than the inhale, the body begins to relax. That matters because physiology drives performance. If your body is overstimulated, thinking narrows and execution suffers. When your physiology settles, your trained skill improves. In Calgary, three breaths were enough because Karyn and Rod’s skills were already there. That is what makes breathwork so powerful: it is not just a calming technique; it is a trained performance tool. Listen to Karyn provide insight into how breathwork is a performance skill:

Practical Tool: Return to Centre in Three Breaths

When pressure rises unexpectedly, use this simple reset: This is not about becoming calm for its own sake. It is about executing what you’re capable of and meeting the moment with excellence.  

Build Resilience In Your Organization

Bring the skills that elite athletes use to build resilience and perform under pressure to your organization. Contact us to learn more about our resilience programs.

This article is part of Third Factor’s Story Behind the Story series, in which we unpack the stories behind both iconic and under-the-radar Olympic and Paralympic moments. In this feature, Third Factor Principal Trainer & Sport Lead Garry Watanabe speaks with Canadian bobsledder and High Performance Director Jesse Lumsden about a key idea: top performers don’t hope pressure will go well. They train for it long before it arrives. — From the outside, Olympic bobsleigh looks like a pure power sport. Fans see explosive athletes sprint beside the sled, jump in cleanly, and race down the track at high speed. Races are decided by hundredths of a second. It seems like strength and speed decide everything. But power alone isn’t enough. It must be applied with precision. The smallest mistake can cost a medal. As High Performance Director of Bobsleigh Canada Skeleton, Jesse Lumsden is responsible for building an environment where athletes can use their power with precision. He prepared for this role through a wide range of experiences. Lumsden was once a standout running back in the CFL. He later switched to bobsleigh and became a world champion and three-time Olympian. After retiring from sport, he spent four years working at a fast-growing fintech company before returning to high-performance sport. Today, he applies lessons from football, Olympic sport, and business. For Lumsden, the biggest adjustment between football and bobsleigh was time. A football game lasts 60 minutes. A bobsleigh race can be won or lost in the first five seconds. Those first seconds happen under maximum pressure, maximum expectation, and maximum physical arousal. Success isn’t just about power. It’s about helping athletes access that power by making pressure feel familiar. Because pressure doesn’t break performance. Unfamiliar pressure does.

Behind the Scenes: When Effort Becomes the Problem

The start of a bobsleigh race creates a paradox. Athletes must be aggressive and explosive. But if they try to force the moment — if adrenaline turns into tension — they slow down. Timing slips. Co-ordination breaks down. The extra effort meant to improve performance actually hurts it. This became even clearer to Lumsden in Olympic sport. In professional football, games happen weekly. In the Olympics, pressure builds for four years toward one moment. That long buildup can either sharpen performance or overwhelm it. “If you’re not mentally prepared,” he explains, “if you haven’t done the work between the ears as much as you have in the gym, your mind is going to break before your body does.” The answer isn’t to remove pressure or hope it feels manageable. The answer is to make sure pressure never feels new.

Lesson #1: Pressure Shouldn’t Be Saved for Game Day

In Olympic bobsleigh, the start is critical. A bad start can cost the race. It also happens in the most intense environment athletes face all year. If that intensity appears for the first time on race day, the nervous system reacts as if it’s under threat. Muscles tighten. Timing speeds up. Focus shifts from execution to survival.

“We’ll throw metaphorical sticks in the spokes to see how people respond… Manufacturing some adversity in the training environment helps build that resilience.”

So teams train for it. “On the bobsleigh side, we manufacture adversity in our training environment,” Lumsden says. “We’ll throw metaphorical sticks in the spokes to see how people respond. We’ll put a hold on the track and turn the noise up really loud. Manufacturing some adversity in the training environment helps build that resilience.” Unexpected delays. Loud noise. Compressed timelines. Sudden changes. These are added on purpose. The goal isn’t to make practice harder just for the sake of it. The goal is to make high-pressure conditions feel normal. On competition day, the body recognizes the intensity. But instead of reacting to it, athletes focus on execution. So the real danger isn’t pressure. It’s surprise pressure. Listen to Jesse describe how pressure shouldn’t be saved for game day:

Lesson #2: Manufacturing Adversity Builds Confidence

When pressure rises, confidence doesn’t come from positive thinking or motivation. It comes from evidence. Athletes need proof they can perform when things aren’t perfect. In high-performance sport, problems are guaranteed. Equipment fails. Schedules change. Mistakes happen. If athletes only train under perfect conditions, any disruption feels like a threat. Manufacturing adversity changes that, Lumsden says. “You do it not because it’s going to happen, but if it does, you’re more prepared … it becomes not a panic moment, but a moment of ‘I’ve been here. Let’s go do our job.’” When athletes practice amid noise, fatigue, uncertainty, and disruption, competition feels manageable. Emotions stay steadier. Decisions stay clear. Execution stays sharp. That’s real confidence. Not the belief that everything will go well, but the knowledge that you can perform even if it doesn’t. Listen to Jesse describe how manufacturing adversity builds confidence:

Lesson #3: Optimal Performance Comes from Controlled Intensity

Under pressure, most people try to push harder. More effort. More urgency. More control. In bobsleigh, that backfires. The start of a race requires maximum power, but it also demands rhythm and coordination. When athletes tighten up or force the moment, their speed drops.

“If you’re not mentally prepared… your mind is going to break before your body does.”

The same thing happens in business and leadership. High-stakes moments often cause people to rush, over-control, or narrow their focus too much. They try to raise performance but end up lowering clarity instead. As Lumsden says: “If you’re not mentally prepared… your mind is going to break before your body does.” Elite performers learn to operate with high intensity and low tension. Aggressive but composed. Urgent but controlled. That ability doesn’t come from trying to relax in the moment. It comes from repeated exposure to pressure until the body learns how to stay loose at full speed. Listen to Jesse describe how optimal performance comes from contolled internsity:

Practical Tool: Manufacture Adversity

One of the most useful lessons from Jesse Lumsden’s experience is simple: Don’t wait for high pressure to show up. Introduce it on purpose. Manufacturing adversity means building controlled challenges into your preparation. Instead of always practicing in calm, predictable settings, recreate the stress you might face later. For example: The point isn’t to make things harder for no reason. It’s to build familiarity. If you’ve already performed under tougher conditions than you expect to face, the real moment feels manageable. Your focus stays on the task, not on your stress response. Over time, this creates a deeper kind of confidence. Not optimism. Not motivation. Evidence. You know you can perform because you’ve done it before — under pressure. That’s the advantage behind Lumsden’s approach: Pressure doesn’t break performance. Unfamiliar pressure does. Bob Safian, former editor of Fast Company, once described the evolution of organizational change in a visceral way that has stayed with me. He said change used to feel like crossing a river. You stepped off solid ground, navigated the current, and eventually reached stable ground on the other side. Today, it feels more like crossing an ocean. The waves come from every direction. Just as you get past one, another wallops you. Then another. Forget about the shoreline. There’s none in sight. That image captures what leaders are experiencing now. We are not managing one big disruption, then going back to normal. We are operating inside a permanent state of flux. We’re managing today’s business while trying to build tomorrow’s amid unprecedented economic, technological and societal changes. Over three decades of working in high-performance environments, I have learned that while we cannot control the waves, we can control how we respond to them. Three practices can make a meaningful difference.

01.

Start With Mindset. Then Respond.

02.

Prevent Isolation.

03.

Create A Culture Of Feedback.

01. Start With Mindset. Then Respond.

Nobel-prize-winning psychologist Daniel Kahneman observed something deeply human about surprise. When unexpected events occur, people tend to believe the lesson is that they now know what to do in similar circumstances in the future. We assume the mistake was a lack of information or insight. But this is the wrong conclusion. The real lesson is that the future is inherently surprising. No matter how prepared we are, some events will catch us off guard. That realization changes everything. When leaders shift from asking, “How did we miss this?” to saying, “Of course something unexpected happened,” they build resilience in their teams. They create space for response instead of reaction.

“Over three decades of working in high-performance environments, I have learned that while we cannot control the waves, we can control how we respond to them.”

Jocko Willink, a former U.S. Navy SEAL commander, trains his teams to respond to setbacks with a single word: “Good.” If a mission is delayed, good — there is more time to prepare. If resources are reduced, good — it forces simplification. “Good” is not meant to dismiss difficulty. It is meant to redirect energy toward action. Serial entrepreneur Brad Jacobs learned a similar lesson in his twenties. When he once presented his mentor, Ludwig Jesselson, with a long list of business problems, Jesselson responded bluntly: “If you want to succeed in business, you must get used to problems. That is what business is all about: solving problems.” Jacobs would later say that this advice shaped every leadership team he built. Still, mindset alone is not enough. Letting go of an outcome people were deeply invested in is not a purely intellectual act. It is emotional. Frustration, disappointment and fear surface quickly when plans unravel. That is why elite performers rely on ritual. Defensive backs in the NFL sometimes use a mental “20-second clock” to feel the impact of a play and then release it. NHL star Connor McDavid, after a difficult shift, removes his helmet, runs his fingers through his hair once, and resets. Performance psychologist Jim Loehr found that elite tennis players use the 25 seconds between points to perform deliberate physical and mental routines that lower their heart rates and restore focus. In business, the ritual will look different. But leaders who help their teams develop a deliberate reset — a clear transition from what just happened to what happens next — build resilience into their culture.

02. Prevent Isolation

When people struggle with change, they rarely announce it. More often, they withdraw. They stop asking questions. They avoid drawing attention to what they do not yet understand. They tell themselves they will figure it out before asking for help. How to prevent isolation Competent adults do not like feeling incompetent. When change triggers that feeling, the instinct is to work harder in private rather than admit their struggles in public. Yet isolation slows learning. People move up learning curves faster when they receive feedback, hear about best practices and learn what to avoid. Progress accelerates when difficulties are shared. A leader’s role, then, is not to rescue but to interrupt the silence. When someone says, “I haven’t really started yet — there’s so much to learn,” the instinct may be to give them a pep talk. A better move is to ask, “Where could you start?” That question helps identify a small, manageable step the individual could take. By breaking the overwhelming into bite-sized bits, something important will start to happen. Progress will become visible, and confidence will follow. And confidence changes how people experience change itself.

03. Create A Culture Of Feedback

In The Culture Code, Daniel Coyle depicts one of the most remarkable examples of rapid team problem solving under pressure. On July 19, 1989, United Airlines Flight 232 suffered a catastrophic loss of hydraulic control over Iowa. The odds of that failure were estimated at one in a billion. There was no checklist for it. No training scenario had prepared the crew. The plane’s pilot, Captain Al Haynes, did something critical in that moment. He did not attempt to solve the problem on his own. First, he accepted help from an off-duty flight instructor who was a passenger. Then he asked his crew, “Does anyone have any ideas?” What followed was a real-time exchange of up to 60 pieces of information a minute among the crew – what was working, what was not, what they needed next – solving problem after problem to fly their dying aircraft to an airfield where they had a chance. Together, they crash-landed the aircraft in Sioux City. Of the plane’s 285 passengers, 185 survived. The accident could have been far worse if not for the crew’s actions. Later, experienced test pilots attempted to replicate the landing in simulators. None succeeded. The difference in the landing was not skill alone. It was communication. The crew members who survived weren’t more skilled than the test pilots. They had better information because they asked for it, shared it quickly with one another and integrated it into their operations.

“The challenges organizations face are too complex and too fast-moving for any one person to solve alone.”

For leaders today, the lesson is clear. The familiar phrase, “Do not bring me problems; bring me solutions,” is largely obsolete. The challenges organizations face are too complex and too fast-moving for any one person to solve alone. The capability you need is already inside your team, your colleagues, your organization. As a leader, it’s your job to unlock it. Build a team where giving and receiving feedback is simply part of how work gets done – where people are comfortable bringing problems forward, knowing the group will help solve them.

There’s only one certainty

We can be certain of one thing: the waves are not stopping. The shore will not always be close. Sometime over the next several months, something none of us anticipated will test our well-laid plans again. The question is not whether uncertainty will appear. It is whether we treat it as a temporary interruption or as the environment itself. Leadership in this era isn’t about having a better crystal ball. It’s about building habits that hold when predictions fail – the habit of coaching your team to reset quickly; helping your people to reach out instead of retreating; and building a culture where feedback and open idea exchange are the norm, not the exception. These practices do not eliminate uncertainty. But they change how we move through it. And sometimes that’s enough to keep us moving forward in turbulent seas.  

Key Takeaways:

  • Expect the unexpected. The lesson of surprise isn’t that we missed something. It’s that the future will always contain surprises. Build teams that respond quickly instead of searching for blame.

  • Shift to response mode. When plans break down, redirect attention to the next action. Progress starts the moment the team moves from reaction to response.

  • Reset quickly. Elite performers use small rituals to move on from mistakes. Leaders can help teams create deliberate resets that refocus attention on what happens next.

  • Interrupt isolation. Change often causes people to withdraw. Leaders accelerate learning by encouraging small starting points and open conversation.

  • Make feedback normal. Complex challenges require shared intelligence. Teams perform best when problems and ideas move quickly between people.


Meet our expert: Dane Jensen, CEO

Dane Jensen is an expert in leadership and performance under pressure. He is an acclaimed speaker, an instructor at Queen’s University and the University of North Carolina, is a regular contributor to Harvard Business Review, and is the author of The Power of Pressure: Why Pressure Isn’t the Problem, It’s the Solution. Alongside his corporate work, Dane serves on the Board of the Canadian Paralympic Committee.

“Our organization recently announced 5% across-the-board budget cuts. The CEO indicated that there will be further, deeper cuts coming over the next couple of years – but there is no information about when they will come, who they will affect, or how deep they will be. How do I keep people motivated with all this uncertainty?”

First and foremost – this is a very difficult situation. It’s one thing to deal with cuts, but another entirely to have future cuts hanging over the business like the sword of Damocles. Research out of University College London showed that the body exhibits significantly higher levels of physical stress – high cortisol, muscle tension, etc. – when there is a 50% chance of receiving pain (an electric shock in the case of the experiment) vs a 100% chance. When we need to live with this stress over a prolonged period it can be very draining. While there is no easy answer here, there are a few strategies that can help:

01. Acknowledge reality

While it might seem counter-intuitive, it is important to sit with the team and acknowledge the danger rather than ignoring or dismissing it. The Stoics advocated a technique called ‘negative visualization’ in which we play out potential negative outcomes in advance to rob them of their power to create irrational distress. It is far better to work as a group and process reality– “what are the scenarios we are most worried about here? How would the cuts play out? What would it mean for us?” – than to have members of the team playing their own disaster movies in their heads at night on repeat.

02. Keep attention focused on controllables

With reality on the table, the most helpful thing a leader can do is to keep the team’s attention focused on what is within their control. Helplessness is at the root of the negative impact of stress, and the goal here is to feed a sense of agency. There are two parts to this discussion: ‘where can we act to influence how this plays out?’ and ‘what is out of our control that we need to let go of?’ Clarity on what we are not going to focus on is as important as clarity on where we do want to focus.

03. Help people find a reason to commit

Motivation is energy, and energy comes from having a good answer to the question ‘why am I doing this?’. For people to lean in and commit they need to be able to answer at least one of two questions: Helping each person on the team clear a line of sight to how this period could help strengthen or develop them, and how their efforts will contribute to others, is a very valuable use of a leader’s time. Through it all, the leader’s job is to help people focus their attention productively: to avoid the night-time doom loops by surfacing and processing fears head-on, identifying the things that are a waste of time and attention and redirecting to controllables, and helping people surface and clarify what makes devoting effort to the team’s goals a meaningful use of their energy. Good luck to you – it is not an easy situation you find yourself in, but it is also in these periods that we build leadership muscle. Connecting with how this will serve a purpose in your growth, and recognizing that your effort will make a huge difference to your team is just as important as how you help your team frame it.  

Key Takeaways:

  • Uncertainty is often more stressful than bad news. Leaders must recognize that ambiguity itself is the pressure their teams are experiencing.

  • Name the reality instead of avoiding it. Shared clarity reduces unnecessary psychological strain.

  • Direct attention to what can be controlled. Leaders build resilience by clearly separating what the team can influence from what must be let go.

  • Connect effort to purpose. A clear “why” sustains commitment when circumstances are uncertain.

  • Leadership is attention management under pressure. The role of the leader is to channel energy toward meaningful action.


Meet our expert: Peter Jensen, Founder

Peter Jensen Gold Medal
Peter Jensen is an expert in leadership and performance under pressure. A PhD in Sport Psychology, he has attended eleven Olympic Games with Team Canada and helped athletes achieve peak performance, including four consecutive Olympic medal-winning women’s hockey teams. He teaches with Queen’s Smith School of Business, works with Fortune 500 organizations globally, and helps leaders and teams apply the lessons of elite sport to drive sustained performance and growth.

“What Is The Olympic Experience Really Like Behind The Scenes?”

People often ask me what it’s like being at the Olympics, and I usually start with this: No one ever comes back saying, “That wasn’t very good.” The Games always live up to their billing. The Olympics are as big, as intense, and as meaningful as people imagine. Importantly, the experience doesn’t begin when the opening ceremonies start. It begins long before anyone arrives.

The Games begin before the Games

One of the biggest misconceptions is that pressure suddenly appears for athletes at the Olympics. It doesn’t. It accumulates long before. I used to tell athletes that the start of an Olympic year feels like walking around with an empty backpack. As the year progresses, they start putting things into it without realizing it. Expectations. Hopes. Comments from others such as “You’re the favourite” or “Don’t let us down.” None of it is meant to be harmful, but it all adds mental weight to the backpack. If athletes don’t learn how to empty that backpack, they won’t perform well when it matters. That’s why preparation must include simulation. Before major championships, we would recreate the full competition environment – crowds, judges, uniforms, even the order in which athletes compete – and then debrief it together. One of the most powerful moments for me was watching younger athletes realize that even world champions get nervous. Experience doesn’t remove pressure. It changes how you respond to it.

Arrival: awe, structure, and distraction

Arriving at the Olympic Village feels a lot like taking a child to university for the first time. You step off the bus, people help with your bags, you’re shown where you’ll stay, eat, and where everything else is. Then comes the flag-raising ceremony: your anthem, your team, the first moment you fully register that you are at the biggest sporting event on the planet: the Olympics. That moment matters. It grounds you. It also amplifies everything you’re carrying. The village itself is extraordinary. You eat meals with athletes from all over the world. In the Summer Games especially, the scale is overwhelming. It’s inspiring and distracting at the same time. Learning what to engage with, and what to tune out, is part of performing well.

Walking into the opening ceremonies

One of the most formative experiences I’ve had was walking into the opening ceremonies. I did it first in Calgary in 1988, and later again in Vancouver in 2010. Walking into the Games in your own country is unlike anything else. The roar of the crowd isn’t just loud – it’s personal. These are your people. The support is energizing, but it also adds another layer of expectation. My experience at the Olympics has caused me to change how I work with athletes. When I talk about the Games with them, I’m not describing something abstract. I know what it feels like in your body to be there: the adrenaline, the noise, the pride, and the responsibility, all at once. It has reinforced something I’ve believed for a long time: preparation isn’t just about skill. It’s about knowing how to respond when emotions are high and attention is pulled in every direction.

The reality of daily performance

Most days at the Olympics look nothing like television. They’re built around routines: meals, practices, travel, waiting, and adjusting to constant change. Schedules shift. Buses run late. Events are delayed. Ice gets damaged mid-competition and must be resurfaced. Competing at the Olympics is largely about learning how to manage time and how to return to your routine when that time is disrupted. When delays happen, the question I always ask athletes is simple: Where would you normally be in your preparation right now? Then we go back there, mentally and physically, and continue as planned. Consistency creates stability when conditions aren’t stable.

Moments you never forget

Some of the most powerful Olympic moments never make the broadcast. One that has stayed with me happened late at night in Calgary after Elizabeth Manley won her silver medal. Hours earlier, the crowd had been deafening. Now it was just the two of us walking through an underground residence tunnel. Two cleaners looked up, saw her medal, stepped aside, and quietly clapped as she passed. No cameras. No noise. Just recognition. That moment captured the Olympics better than any podium moment ever could.

What leaders can learn from the Games

Behind the scenes, the Olympics are not polished or predictable. They’re demanding, human, and full of disruption. The athletes who thrive aren’t the ones who wait for perfect conditions. They’re the ones who know their routines, understand themselves under pressure, and can return to what matters when things go sideways. That lesson applies far beyond sport. High-stakes moments rarely unfold as planned. Performance, whether on the ice or in an organization, comes down to preparation, adaptability, and the ability to stay grounded when the noise gets loud. That’s the part of the Olympics you won’t see on TV. This article is part of Third Factor’s Story Behind the Story series, where we look at remarkable Olympic and Paralympic achievements and the athletes who made them happen. This time, we’re featuring Brian and Robin McKeever. Together, they’ve won 16 gold medals in Para Nordic skiing. — Brian McKeever is one of Canada’s most accomplished skiers, winning gold at every single winter Paralympics since Salt Lake 2002 (6 in a row), and is now part of the coaching team heading into Milan Cortina. Brian was 19 when he began losing his vision to Stargardt disease. He competed in Para Nordic skiing’s visually impaired category, where athletes ski at full speed but rely on a guide to navigate the course. That guide was his older brother, Robin. Robin wasn’t a helper on the sidelines – he was an elite skier in his own right. As Brian’s guide, Robin skied directly in front of him during races, setting the pace, choosing lines, calling terrain, and making split-second decisions that affected them both. If Robin made a mistake, Brian paid for it. If Robin wasn’t fast enough, they couldn’t win. To spectators, the McKeevers’ racing looked effortless: two skiers lined up and moving in sync, linked by trust and quiet communication. What wasn’t visible was how much work it took to build that easy relationship – or how important kindness was to sustaining it. Brian raced on the same courses and distances as Olympic cross-country skiers. The physical demands were the same. What differed was how results were calculated. In Para Nordic skiing, athletes are classified by disability type, and finishing times are adjusted using a percentage system, like a golf handicap. For Brian, that system created a unique challenge. Because he was in the least severe vision-loss class, his finishing time was counted at 100 per cent. Athletes with more vision loss had time removed, sometimes significantly. As a result, Brian and Robin often had to win races by minutes to win overall. Guiding made their reliance on each other unavoidable. In Brian’s category, Robin skied directly in front, choosing the line while Brian drafted behind him. The draft helped – but only if the guide was fast enough to lead. If Brian had to hold back because his guide was not skiing fast enough, there was no way he would win, which meant that Robin had to ski at a level that matched one of Canada’s top able-bodied skiers. As Brian puts it, “I’m not winning without a good guide.” This wasn’t an individual event with assistance. It was a shared performance.

Kindness Is the Mechanism That Lets Standards Hold

When choosing who to work with, one thing mattered most to the brothers. “Skills can be learned,” Brian says, “but the right compatibility is [most] important.” For Brian and Robin, compatibility meant being able to handle feedback without eroding trust. It wasn’t about being agreeable, it was about keeping standards high while delivering feedback with kindness. “There could be criticisms, there can be hard conversations,” Brian explains. But when feedback came with “kindness in their hearts and how it’s being presented,” it became “much easier to listen to it and to debrief, and figure out a better way forward.” That difference mattered for learning. With trust in place, someone could say, “Hey, I think if you do something this way, you’ll be faster,” and it would be heard as help. As Brian says, “we all get better together.” Robin noticed the same effect. Strong trust meant “less micromanaging.” Standards didn’t drop; roles were clear, intentions were trusted, and learning could continue under pressure. Here’s Brian sharing about the importance of kindness to their culture:

Kindness Can Raise the Bar

One of the most important moments in Brian’s Paralympic career happened because a competitor took the time to help him. Early in his Para Nordic career, Brian sometimes raced without a guide. In one event, he finished just “30 seconds behind the top guy in the world.” Afterward, the German athlete and his guide told him, “You need to have a guide, because today with a guide, you might have won.” Brian remembers thinking, “Why would another nation be helping me out on this?” The answer was simple: they were “just excited to have competition.” That advice changed Brian’s path. Because of that conversation, he asked Robin to guide him, beginning “10 years of pretty fun work racing together.” Sometimes kindness doesn’t make sport easier. It makes it better. On why others helped them out to raise the bar:

Trust Is Built in the First Failure, Not the First Success

Their first World Cup together took place at the Salt Lake City Olympic course in March 2001. It was unusually warm – about 15 Celsius, Robin recalls – and the snow was wet and unpredictable. On a fast downhill, something went wrong. Robin reached the bottom and realized, “Brian’s not there.” He waited, then started hiking back up the course. He heard Brian yelling. What he saw first wasn’t Brian, but “a ski sitting off the edge of the trail.” Brian had caught an edge in the “sloppy snow,” gone off course, and ended up “hanging off of a tree upside down.” Robin climbed down, removed the skis, and pulled him back up. From Brian’s side, he stepped outside the track to get a push and hit the “mashed potatoes” snow: “My ski stopped and I kept going.” The tree became “the only thing stopping me from sliding headfirst down a steep mud slope.” He held on and waited for Robin. “I figured he’d eventually figure out I wasn’t there,” Brian says. Robin later called it “a very big failure on day one.” What mattered was what followed. “We laughed about it.” No blame. No anger. That moment set the tone. Trust wasn’t automatic – even between brothers. It was built through shared experience and protected by how mistakes were handled. Kindness showed up early, not as softness, but as steadiness. Here’s Robin sharing their early guiding failures:

Autonomy in Preparation. Alignment in Execution.

The McKeevers succeeded because they didn’t pretend they were the same athlete. As Robin explains, “We have overlapping roles that work together … we have the same end goal, but we still need to arrive there in slightly different ways.” That showed up in training. “We have our own training programs,” he says. “It’s not exactly the same, but we still need to arrive at the same point where we can ski together, race together, and communicate in order to achieve a team victory.” Brian puts it plainly: “I can ski by myself. Robin can ski by himself, but he’s there to help me. And we are winning this together. We’re not doing this individually.” Giving each other space reduced friction. Coming together at the right moments kept them aligned. Trust and looking out for each other were the glue that made both possible.

What Leading With Kindness Looks Like in Practice

The McKeevers’ story reveals three practical behaviours that translate directly to leadership and teams:

01.

Reset without blame when something goes wrong.

02.

Deliver feedback as performance support, not personal judgment.

03.

Clarify ownership to reduce micromanagement and create alignment.

01. Reset without blame when something goes wrong

When Brian crashed off the course in Salt Lake City, the response wasn’t panic or finger-pointing. Robin described the day as a failure, but one they laughed about and moved on from. That response preserved trust in a moment where it could have fractured.

02. Deliver feedback as performance support, not personal judgment

Hard conversations were unavoidable, but when framed with respect, people stayed receptive. The feedback that mattered most was specific and performance-focused: if you do this differently, you’ll be faster.

03. Reduce micromanagement by clarifying ownership and alignment

Trust allowed Brian and Robin to prepare in their own way while still arriving at the same execution point. Different paths. Same outcome. This is kindness without lowering the bar: respect that keeps people engaged, paired with precision that drives improvement. In the McKeevers’ case, kindness turned trust into medals, and a partnership into a lasting competitive advantage. —- Brian will be coaching the Canadian para-Nordic team as they go for gold in Milan-Cortina starting on March 10 (see the team schedule here), while Robin will be supporting the Canadian Nordic team as a member of the coaching staff.  

Build Resilience In Your Organization

Bring the skills that elite athletes use to build resilience and perform under pressure to your organization. Contact us to learn more about our resilience programs.

Bring skills that elite athletes use to build resilience to your organization. Contact us to learn more.

This article is part of Third Factor’s Story Behind the Story series, in which we look at stories behind iconic and under-the-radar Olympic and Paralympic moments. For this feature, Third Factor founder Peter Jensen takes us onto the ice at the Sochi Olympics women’s hockey final, from his vantage point as Team Canada’s mental performance coach, and explains how the team came from behind to defeat the United States for gold.For a moment it looked as if Canada’s reign as Olympic women’s hockey champions was about to end. It was the gold-medal game at Sochi 2014 and in the third period the U.S. was up 2-0. Time was running out. Then Canada scored to make it 2-1. With under a minute left, Marie-Philippe Poulin tied the game. In overtime, she scored again and Canada claimed gold. Today, that finish is remembered as one of the greatest comebacks in Olympic hockey history. But it didn’t happen by accident. Team Canada had anticipated this scenario and prepared for it. The weeks leading up to the Sochi Olympics were not easy for the national team. “We hadn’t done really well in our league play during the Olympic year,” recalls Third Factor founder Peter Jensen. The team also underwent a disruptive coaching change just prior to the Games. Momentum favoured the Americans, and confidence alone wasn’t going to be enough for Team Canada to clinch gold. They needed more. So Jensen focused on something tangible: preparing the team for adversity.
That preparation mattered in Sochi. When pressure mounted, the team didn’t fracture emotionally. They had already agreed on how they would behave.

You Perform How You Prepare

A persistent myth about high performance – whether in athletes or business leaders – is that resilience appears when it’s needed most. The reality is simpler: it shows up only to the extent that it has been rehearsed. Months before the Olympics, Jensen met with the team before a game against a strong AAA boys’ team from Brandon, Manitoba. The discussion wasn’t about winning that night. Instead, it focused on a specific scenario they could face: being down 2-0 in the third period.  The players began by talking through how they would manage the clock. “You think about it in 10-minute segments,” Jensen explains. “You break it in half … and break it down into achievable things.” He then narrowed the window. What if there were only five minutes left? Now it became two-and-a-half-minute sequences. Smaller problems. Clearer focus. The emphasis was not on emotion or outcome, but on behaviours the team could control under pressure. So when Team Canada found itself down two goals with around seven minutes left in the Sochi gold medal game, the players weren’t overwhelmed. The situation felt familiar. They had been there before and knew how to respond. 
Canada takes on the USA in women's gold medal hockey game at the 2014 Sochi Olympics
Canada takes on the USA in women’s gold medal hockey game on February 20, 2014 at the Shayba Arena during the XXII Olympic Winter Games in Sochi, Russia. Photo Credit: High Performance Photography, Dave Holland.

“Stay Positive” Is Not a Strategy

Another subtle but critical shift was Jensen’s refusal to let the team sidestep uncomfortable realities. When asked how they would respond individually late in a close game, players emphasized the importance of staying positive and supporting their teammates.  Jensen pushed back. “The coach shortens the bench. And so you’re irritated,” he told them, adding players who weren’t getting ice time would feel frustrated and lose focus. Pretending otherwise wouldn’t make that problem go away. So the team discussed what that “irritation” might feel like and how players could still support their teammates on the ice. By talking about those moments in advance, they normalized them. Falling behind stopped being a psychological threat and became a known condition with a known response. That preparation mattered in Sochi. When pressure mounted, the team didn’t fracture emotionally. They had already agreed on how they would behave.

Normalize Adversity Instead of Hoping It Won’t Appear

After the gold medal game, head coach Kevin Dineen summed up his team in a few words: They never gave up.  From Jensen’s perspective, there was more to that explanation. “They didn’t give up because that’s who they were,” he says. “We’d done a lot of work on team vision and culture. But we’d also simulated what they would need to do.” The team didn’t treat adversity as an anomaly. They treated it as an inevitability. By rehearsing the moments most likely to derail them – shortened benches, frustration, time pressure – they removed surprise from the equation. And when surprise disappears, performance improves. The Sochi gold medal didn’t come from belief summoned in the moment. It came from preparation that made the moment feel familiar.

Pre-Plan for Adversity

You don’t need an Olympic stage to apply these lessons. The same approach Team Canada used to win gold works in business, leadership and life. Here’s how to get started: Preparing for adversity doesn’t invite negativity. It builds confidence, so when things don’t go to plan, as they inevitably will, you’ll know exactly how to respond.   Watch the full conversation with Peter on the story behind gold in Sochi.
 

Key Insights:

  • Resilience is not a personality trait; it is a trained response to pressure.

  • Breaking high-stakes situations into smaller, controllable segments reduces cognitive overload and sharpens execution.

  • Avoiding negative scenarios creates fragility; rehearsing them creates confidence.

  • Teams perform better under pressure when they normalize adversity instead of treating it as failure.

  • Preparation replaces hope with clarity.

Build Resilience In Your Organization

Bring the skills that elite athletes use to build resilience and perform under pressure to your organization. Contact us to learn more about our resilience programs.

Bring skills that elite athletes use to build resilience to your organization. Contact us to learn more.

This article launches Third Factor’s Story Behind the Story series, in which we unpack the stories behind both iconic and under-the-radar Olympic and Paralympic moments. For our first feature, Third Factor CEO Dane Jensen sat down with Tessa Virtue – two-time Olympic champion and, with her partner Scott Moir, the most decorated Olympic figure skaters of all time. From the outside, the story of Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir’s career is simple: show up every four years and win. Gold in Vancouver, silver in Sochi, then, after retiring and un-retiring in spectacular fashion, gold in PyeongChang via one of the Winter Olympics’ all-time iconic performances But the story behind gold in 2018 is strikingly different than gold in 2010. The lead-up to 2010 in Vancouver was marked by overcoming both injury and conflict: “I had surgery to combat an overuse injury in my legs, and throughout the recovery process Scott and I stopped speaking. We just lost trust.” At the Olympics, Tessa was “counting the number of steps it would take to get to the cafeteria because I knew if I walked those 300 paces, I wouldn’t be able to practise or compete. And so, it felt like the ultimate Hail Mary just worrying about making it to the end of a program.” In the end, talent and hard work – on both recovery and the relationship – aligned to produce one shining moment. Tessa and Scott were crowned the youngest ice dance champions in Olympic history.  It was an incredible performance – and one that felt like it would be hard to repeat. “Stepping off the podium in 2010 … I’m not sure I really felt like a winner, if I’m honest,” she says. “There were a lot of factors that had to come together for us to win, and I’m not really sure if I knew stepping off the podium in 2010 that I could replicate that.” 
“We can BE the best, even when we’re not AT our best.”
At PyeongChang in 2018, on the other hand, “before our music even started, I felt different. I felt like a high performer, and I didn’t feel like I needed the judges’ results to prove that for me.”  And contrary to the feeling after the 2010 Games, after 2018, “there was real joy and satisfaction that came from the hard work, from the pressure, from all of the things that I would’ve found totally depleting two, four, eight or 12 years earlier.” So what changed? In our conversation with Tessa, three evolutions stood out: embracing discomfort rather than focusing on the number of hours spent in training; a deliberate shift in mindset from chasing perfection to pursuing excellence; and – above all else – a reclamation of personal power. 

01. Creating discomfort vs. over-training

After the over-use injuries and surgeries that characterized 2010, the comeback in 2018 was built on less training time – three hours a day instead of 12 – more recovery time, and using the limited training hours to deliberately create imperfect conditions to sharpen their resilience. Whether it was leaving the ice unflooded and chipped, pumping in crowd noise, or falling on command to practise recovery, each practice built confidence that, as Tessa says, “we can BE the best, even when we’re not AT our best.” Here’s Tessa discussing that process:
 

02. Pursuing excellence vs. chasing perfection

In Tessa’s words, “We needed to stop chasing perfection and instead pursue excellence … and once we took perfect off the table, we thought excellence was possible.” Their daily goal became showing up at an “8 out of 10”; not in effort, but in execution. Reframing their approach unhooked them from the impossible standard of perfection and freed them to connect with the joy and challenge of consistent excellence.  Listen to Tessa talk about this shift:
 

03. Becoming drivers vs. passengers 

At the heart of Tessa and Scott’s story behind the story is reclaiming a sense of agency and self-efficacy. After years of being “good little soldiers,” for their 2018 comeback, they stepped into the driver’s seat: assembling their own team, setting their own standards, and “operating as if we were the CEOs of our own business,” she says. “We had agency and autonomy, we really were steering the ship.” That changed their experience leading up to the Games and, she believes, made the ultimate win more fulfilling. Listen to Tessa talk about this shift:
Of course, the effectiveness of these shifts is not limited to sports. We can all benefit from: When Tessa and Scott made these shifts, the impact was transformative. In Tessa’s words, “I felt like I had the recipe for what it meant to be excellent.” Given the results, it’s a recipe that’s worth testing out for yourself.   Want to go deeper? Watch Tessa’s full conversation with Dane here:
 

Build Resilience In Your Organization

Bring the skills that elite athletes use to build resilience and perform under pressure to your organization. Contact us to learn more about our resilience programs.