Janet’s Journal: What Alysa Liu’s gold-medal free skate in the 2026 Winter Olympics taught me about fear

By Opinion Editor Janet Guan

“Alright. Next.” 

As I opened the door to the audition room, my heart pounded, palms suddenly clammy. My hands tightened around the silver flute in their grasp, and I wondered if it was possible to forget how to play an instrument in a split second of nervousness.

The audition lady looked up from her clipboard and smiled. “You may begin.”

I felt my hands shake as I raised my flute to my lips, the two halves balking as they tried to remember the perfect aperture I had practiced weeks before. It’s over, I thought. 

And just as I expected, my first note came out too sharp, too airy, and every bit disappointing.

I’ve known fear in countless different forms: sudden brain fog before an academic competition, shadows of doubt before starting an application, all-consuming inertia before cracking down on a long-term goal. But the feeling has been the same, an inexorable tide of internal pushback — halting, debilitating, and the last obstacle in the pursuits I’ve valued the most.

I used to blame my fear on some internal flaw of my own. Perhaps I was just prone to nervousness. Perhaps I just wasn’t fit for performing, for putting myself in the spotlight. Whatever the case, I treated fear as a part of who I was — unfixable and better neglected than resolved. Bit by bit, I let go of the things that required me to confront my fear. I quit flute; I put competition training and applications on hold. I shelved everything away for temporary ignorant bliss.

Then something last month reminded me of the battle I had swept aside. Alongside millions of viewers around the world, I was absolutely dazzled by Alysa Liu’s gold-medal free skate in the 2026 Winter Olympics. What I remember the most is the sheer freedom in her skating. The anticipation of Olympic judges, her teammates, and the world had no effect on the pure passion that radiated from her every leap and twirl. Her smile alone said it all: she was completely at home. 

I can’t say that Liu’s performance rid me of fear altogether because bravery, the truth is, is a gradual battle. For Liu herself, she had initially retired at 16 under the demands of early success. But remarkably, she returned — not for any competition result but the joy of skating itself. “If there was no one on Earth, I would still skate,” Liu said to The Guardian.

I can say that her mindset gave me a new perspective on fear: fear isn’t a consequence of who I am, but what I choose to value. I was so used to confining my satisfaction from a pursuit entirely to the end result — a competition score, an audition seating, a program acceptance — and by fixating on that uncertainty, I trapped myself in a cycle of disappointment. The best remedy to fear is finding enjoyment in the process itself. 

Bravery begins with reflection, recognizing the sparks that ignited a passion and allowing them to consume our fear. The excitement of playing a duet with a friend. The rush of finally solving a problem, after hours of wrestling with its intricacies. Because when we truly love something, there’s really nothing to fear.