A Skater's Journey: Amber Glenn and the Fight for Self-Expression

Amber Glenn's short program at the Olympics has become a moment that will be talked about for a long time. People will remember the history she made, the music she chose, and the visibility she brought to the queer community. But what happened on the ice is something only a skater can truly understand.

The Last-Element Nightmare

There is a unique kind of heartbreak in missing your "easiest" jump at the very end of a program. Non-skaters might think the scariest part is the big tricks, like the triple axel or the quad, but often the element that haunts skaters is the one they trust the most. For Amber Glenn, it was the triple loop.

Amber's experience resonates with my own. At Canadian Nationals in 1996, my program was going well until the final jump, a double Axel, went wrong. It's a moment I replay in my mind even thirty years later. I let relief, instead of panic, take over, and that was my downfall.

Focus, ADHD, and the Quiet Chaos

Amber Glenn and I share something beyond skating: we both live with ADHD. The narrative of the "focused athlete" doesn't account for the internal battle of hyperfocus versus distraction. Despite the pressure, Amber was dedicated to her triple Axel, a jump that had become central to her story. But in pouring mental energy into the hardest element, sometimes the easiest can crack.

During Amber’s warm-up, I noticed small signs of tension — the way she kept adjusting her skate laces — that suggested anxiety was present. Yet, when her program began, she delivered the difficult elements with precision. But then came the triple loop, a jump she could usually perform in her sleep. It's the subtle shift in speed or timing that can make even the most practiced element betray you.

The Harsh Economics of One Second

When that loop went down, it was more than just a fall. It was a calculation of how that mistake affected her shot at a medal, sponsorships, and future opportunities. Amber, at 26, knows this might be her last Olympic cycle. Every elite skater understands what a drop in the standings can mean for their career.

After such a short program, the mindset going into the long changes. You know you're not winning; the storyline you trained for is gone. So what keeps you going? For me, and I hope for Amber, it's about skating for pride and dignity. It's about the love of the sport.

Skating for Herself

The deepest and most honest performances I've seen come when an athlete skates for themselves. Not for the judges, not for headlines, not even for being a trailblazer. I hope Amber skates for herself, for the kid who first stepped onto the ice, and for the athlete who has faced challenges and expectations but still reached for the hardest jump on the biggest stage.

In skating for herself, Amber can find a sense of liberation and fulfillment that transcends scores and medals. It's a reminder of why she started skating in the first place and a testament to her resilience and passion.

Chad Conley, a former elite Canadian skater, analyzes the Winter Olympics and reflects on his own experiences as a gay athlete.

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