According to recent data from the 2025 Global Support Index, nearly 65% of professionals in high-stress roles feel that their "mistakes" are more visible to their peers than their successes.
This fear of being watched (and judged) often prevents us from seeking the very help we need. As we watched the 2026 Winter Olympics in Milano Cortina, we saw more than just athletic feats; we saw a mirror of the human condition.
While the medals are shiny, the real value for those of us in the "helping professions" lies in the stories that didn't go according to plan.
Let’s look at what these Olympic moments can teach us about standing by each other when life doesn't always get us on the podium.
One of the most viral moments of these Games happened in Tesero, when a Czechoslovakian Wolfdog named Nazgûl slipped his leash and joined the women’s cross-country team sprint heats.
Elite athletes were in a lung-bursting sprint when suddenly, a four-legged "competitor" was running alongside them.
In life (and peer support), we often try to keep our "tracks" perfectly clear. We have a plan, a protocol, and a goal.
But Nazgûl reminds us that the most human moments are interruptions.
For example, sometimes a colleague doesn't need a lecture on "best practices"; they need someone to acknowledge the "dog on the track"—the unexpected chaos that makes the job hard.
Peer support is about finding the beauty (and the humor) in the mess, rather than just trying to sweep it away.
The 2026 Games were a heartbreak for Canadian hockey fans. Both the men and women fought through grueling schedules, outplayed opponents, and left everything on the ice, only to lose 2-1 in overtime in their respective gold medal games against the USA.
They did everything right, but the result wasn't gold.
For front-line workers, this is a daily reality. You can follow every procedure perfectly and still have a "bad" outcome.
Peer support means validating the effort, not just the result.
When a teammate is grieving a loss (professional or personal), they don't need to be told how to "win" next time. They need a peer who says, "I saw the work you put in, and that work still has value, even without the gold medal."
Perhaps the most jarring moment of the Games was Norwegian biathlete Sturla Holm Lægreid. After winning bronze, he used his post-race interview to tearfully confess to cheating on his partner, calling it his "biggest mistake."
It was uncomfortable, raw, and widely criticized as "too much information."
However, in the world of peer support, we know that guilt doesn't stop just because you're at work.
We all carry "invisible rucksacks" of shame.
Peer support creates a safe space to be "not okay" in the middle of a win. Lægreid's story teaches us that honesty is the first step toward healing.
Supporting a peer doesn't mean you excuse their mistakes; it means you remind them they are still human and still worthy of a seat at the table.
The 2026 Olympics taught us that the human experience is rarely a straight line to a podium.
Whether it’s an unexpected guest on our "track," the heartbreak of a near-win, or the crushing weight of a personal mistake, we are all just trying to finish the race.
Peer support is the "Scan'O'Vision" camera that captures the truth: we perform better when we know someone is there to catch us if we fall.
To get more reflections, tools, and lived-experience experiments, you can subscribe to the email list at thejeffturner.ca.
If you’re looking to build a gentle reflection habit, you might also like The FREE Front-Line Worker’s Guide to Managing Overthinking.
Until next time. I’m Jeff, and remember to take care of yourself, however that looks to you.