At the 2026 Milan Winter Olympics, the figure skating competition is about to begin. Twenty-one-year-old American figure skater Ilia Malinin has just led the U.S. team to a gold medal in the team event. Major media outlets around the world have dubbed him the “God of Quadruples,” the first to land all six types of quadruple jumps perfectly in competition, and the world record holder for achieving seven quadruples in a single program. He is hailed as a world-class prodigy who has “redefined the limits of figure skating.”
On social media, fans have already started celebrating his anticipated individual gold medal. Everyone is waiting for him to be crowned king on the singles skating stage. However, on February 13, a cruel twist occurred. As the music for the men’s singles final began, Malinin skated out from the starting point, built up momentum for a jump, but fell heavily on his first quadruple jump.
After getting back up, he made another mistake on the second quadruple jump. The eight thousand spectators in the arena gasped in shock. In the mixed zone after the competition, Malinin spoke with a trembling voice, saying: “I messed up.” The final results revealed that Malinin placed eighth.
Why did the super skater fall?
On the surface, it was a technical error — a loss of balance on a high-risk rotation. But deeper down, the fall was a byproduct of the “all-or-nothing” trap. Malinin’s strategy was built entirely on pushing the sport’s absolute physical limits. When a program is constructed exclusively of “stretch goals” with zero margin for error, the psychological pressure becomes a physical weight. In that high-stakes moment, the mental demand for “super perfection” likely disrupted the fluid muscle memory required for such complex jumps. One small slip didn’t just cost points; it shattered the momentum of a rigid, high-risk plan.
This scene appears to be a failure in a sporting event, but if viewed as a life lesson, its significance may be more precious than any gold medal. It addresses a proposition that every young person will inevitably face: how should we converse with ourselves when pressure mounts? How do we learn to control our inner selves?
The risk of ‘super perfection’
Why did Malinin’s limit-pushing strategy fail? In that moment, Malinin reflected on each of us on our journey of growth. We have all, at some point, pushed ourselves to the limit simply because we wanted to achieve “super perfection.” Have you ever done this? Did you insist on tackling the most challenging questions right before an exam? Or, did you find yourself trying to create a graduation project that would “amaze everyone,” only to realize three days before the deadline that you wouldn’t be able to finish?
We empathize with Malinin’s failure. His competition strategy has always been to challenge the super difficult. Two quadruple jumps, a quadruple jump followed by a triple jump sequence, and a quadruple jump with a back outside edge. This means that, if successful, he could significantly distance himself from all competitors, but if even one element went wrong, the scores would collapse like an avalanche. Challenging limits is certainly cool, but the problem is that when “limits” become the only option, one loses the possibility of retreat.
The wisdom of stability
In fact, there is another way to win that embodies wisdom in being steady and solid. For example, the eventual champion from Kazakhstan, Mikhail Kolyada, did not attempt any quadruple jumps in his program, only five high-quality quadruples. His strategy was clear: all movements were within his stable control, and he aimed to execute each flawlessly. He built his score piece by piece, landing all five quadruples solidly and ultimately achieving a historic 291.58 points to win the gold medal.
Even Steve Jobs, at 30, insisted on his own “limit-pushing strategy.” He adhered to NeXT’s philosophy, which led to significant conflicts with the board of directors and ultimately to his ousting from Apple. The 12 years following his firing became his most important learning period.
Jobs realized that not all problems need “extreme solutions.” At Pixar, he learned the patience to refine ideas. Upon returning to Apple, he led the team to launch products like the iPod and iPhone, no longer pursuing “overnight success,” but relying on steady iterations. “Being fired from Apple was the best thing that ever happened to me. The weight of success was replaced by the ease of a fresh start,” said Jobs in 2005.
Jobs’ story teaches us that we don’t have to shoot for the stars right away; steady climbing is also feasible. Psychologist Lev Vygotsky proposed the “Zone of Proximal Development.” This means that the most effective challenge should be “reachable with a jump,” rather than requiring one to “fly.”
Building resilience through incremental progress
To apply this principle to everyday life, one can utilize the “Three-Tier Goal Method.” This framework provides a psychological and strategic buffer against the “all-or-nothing” failure experienced by Malinin:
- Baseline goal: This is your safety net — something you can complete even on your worst day (e.g., simply passing an exam).
- Ideal goal: This represents a successful outcome under normal, solid performance (e.g., scoring an 85%).
- Stretch goal: This is the “limit-pushing” objective that requires peak performance and a bit of luck to achieve (e.g., scoring a 95%).
By setting these tiers, you ensure that even if you don’t reach the absolute pinnacle, you still maintain your baseline and avoid the feeling of total collapse. This logic is a universal blueprint for tackling new challenges. When learning programming, start by writing a small, functional program before optimizing its performance.
When preparing for an interview, master the common questions first, then develop impressive case studies, and only finally prepare for high-level “curveball” questions. By breaking goals down, we move from the fragility of “super perfection” to the resilience of steady progress.
Translated by Joseph Wu and edited by Helen London
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