The Joys of Not “Going for Gold”: How Mikaela Shiffrin Got Back On Track
Have you ever obsessed over outcomes, results, and circumstances that hinge upon your performance? Has it ever messed you up?
And, have you ever had the lucid realization that it was the dedication, faithfulness, and excellence you put into the process that mattered all along?
Did you realize it was this focus that was the only thing that reliably led to excellence…and that outcomes were a by-product of excellence?
The world will say that Mikaela Shiffrin won gold by facing the pressure and channeling it into Olympic victory.
I think I disagree…and that Mikaela would as well.
In a characteristically pensive and authentically honest interview after winning the two-run race of Olympic women’s slalom, Mikaela openly said she’d been fearing these high-pressure Olympic races for a long time.
Her alpine skiing career started about as well as possible. After winning her first National Slalom title at age 16 and her first World Cup at age 17, Mikaela became the youngest slalom champion in Olympic history as an 18-year-old. Four years later, in the 2018 Winter Olympics, she added another gold and silver medal to her trophy case.
Then, disaster struck in 2020. Her dad died in a tragic accident.
And two years later in Beijing, she missed the podium in every event she competed in—a catastrophic result compared to the expectations of everyone, including herself.
She had to wait four years for Olympic redemption. And she was the last run in her slalom competition.
Imagine the pressure.
In the interview, Mikaela said she got to the point where the golds, medals, Olympics—all of it—needed to become secondary. She wanted to focus on and enjoy the skiing part of skiing—the act of being totally absorbed in the concentration and physical aggression it takes to ski a course with precision.
Some would call it “the process,” or “the grind.” I see it as “the sweet spot.” The act of athletic excellence and peak performance, which, when repeated, made her better than everyone who came before her.
No high-pressure Olympic storyline could be any bigger or talked about any longer. But her answer was less (not more) about the triumphant outcome, less about the prize, less about the gold, less about the crowd or media or narrative.
When she finished, Mikaela didn’t explode in joy or melt in tears. It almost looked like she didn’t care about the gold at all. She looked relieved…because she was able to do what she’d normally done, which was ski to near perfection.
She said she felt a spiritual moment as she remembered her dad, who was no longer waiting for her at the finish line. She whispered, “Dad.”
In the interview, she relived the moment: “It’s like I am thinking I would be in this moment without him, to take the moment of this silence with him, and with the whole team with me, and it was just like, a little bit more spiritual than I usually am. But I’m really grateful for that.”
She was humble and grateful, not focused on her brand or prize. She had focused on excellence, not gold. And at the end of the day, it came down to activating and enjoying her gift and connection to her dad, her mom, and her teammates, not to legacy.
Competing Motivations
It reminds me of another Olympic story over 100 years ago. At the 1924 Paris Summer Olympics, two runners embodied two very different ways of competing under pressure. There was enormous drama surrounding both men.
Harold Abrahams was under intense pressure to validate himself and his training by winning gold in the 100 meters, a race he had poured his identity into. He was running not just to win, but to prove himself—to earn acceptance, recognition, and belonging in a sporting world that had often made him, as a Jewish man, feel like an outsider.
Eric Liddell, by contrast, famously withdrew from his strongest event, the 100 meters, because the qualifying heats were scheduled on a Sunday, and he had a religious conviction not to compete. He chose faithfulness over medals. Instead, he ran the 400 meters, a race that was not considered his best distance, and won gold anyway.
Liddell knew he had been given a gift, and he threw himself into that gift with joyful abandon—head tilted back, as if laughing with God, who he credited with making him “fast.” “When I run,” he said, “I feel His pleasure.”
Abrahams ran for outcomes he hoped would validate him—image, brand, acceptance, belonging. Liddell ran with a secure identity—as a giddy son of his heavenly Father, using his gift to the full not to prove himself, but to glorify and enjoy God.
C.S. Lewis said it clearly. “Aim at earth, and you’ll miss heaven. Aim at heaven, and you’ll get earth thrown in.”
Aim at gold, and you’ll miss skiing. Aim at excellence, and you may get gold thrown in.Want more of this inspirational coaching in your life? Sign up for my CORE3 Coaching, a no-cost weekly benefit to your life. It’s brief, visual, and action-oriented to build deep, consistent, Jesus-like (Level 5) friendships.
Image: Mikaela Shiffrin Grandvalira 2023 GS 1st run by Krzysztof Golik, CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons
