Watching the Olympics is one of my favorite things to do. For two weeks, I become obsessed not only with the sporting events themselves, but also with the athletes’ stories. People who have been training their whole lives for a few seconds or a few minutes, who show us what it means to be determined and resilient on the biggest stage. This year, I was drawn to figure skater Alysa Liu. Her story is bold. She stepped away from figure skating in 2022, at just 16 years old, leaving many who follow the sport stunned. After all, she had already won two U.S. national titles and had competed on the world stage.
At the time, she said she just wanted to be a normal teenager, and after hearing her tell her story, I knew she was burned out. Her decision sparked debate in the sports world. Was it too soon? Was it wasted potential? Was she quitting at her peak?
One of the most striking aspects of Liu’s story isn’t that she burned out. It’s that she had the self-awareness and support to pause. That quitter label hits hard and fast, but research provides insights into why people quit. Employees may feel pushed away from their current roles (e.g., I’m bored with my work, I feel unsupported, or work is dominating my life) or pulled toward something new (e.g., I can reset my life and start over, I’ll be recognized for the impact of my work somewhere else, or my values will better align with a new company). These pushes and pulls underscore four big reasons why people leave:
To get out (I want to leave a toxic culture, a bad manager, or a dead-end job)
To regain control (I need to rebalance; I need more flexibility or predictability)
To realign (I want my skills to be more fully utilized, appreciated, and acknowledged)
To take the next step (I want to move forward after reaching a personal or professional milestone)
Several reasons existed for Liu. She wanted control over her life and her schedule. She didn’t want to be told what she could and couldn’t eat every day. She wanted her artistic creativity to be the thing that people talked about and measured her by—not just her wins and medals. Achievement had become her identity.
I’ve worked with senior leaders who describe a similar arc. At the height of their success, they feel depleted and detached. The metrics are strong. The title is impressive. The compensation is meaningful. But something is off. They can’t remember the last time they felt curious or energized by their work. They’re performing, but they’re detached.
And it’s that detachment part that organizations need to pay close attention to. Burnout is a very specific type of chronic stress that is associated with work and consists of three dimensions: chronic exhaustion, chronic cynicism, and lack of professional efficacy.
Many of the studies that measure burnout tend to focus on the negative effects of the exhaustion/cynicism combination of the three dimensions, but miss what might be the most important. High professional efficacy means that you see the meaning and impact of your work, can identify important work resources, and generally feel effective in your work and connected to what you’re doing. All the things Liu said she was missing.
Interestingly, professionals who have high rates of exhaustion and cynicism, but high professional efficacy, are in a category researchers call “engaged-exhausted.” It’s a combination that I frequently see in my work, and it’s not the same as burnout. In one study, more than 1,000 workers were surveyed, and the results showed that 35.5 percent of the sample were moderately engaged-exhausted, while 18.8 percent of the sample were highly engaged-exhausted. The engaged-exhausted group was still passionate about their work, but they had strong mixed feelings about it—some interest, but also high levels of stress that had become wearing. Notably, the engaged-exhausted group showed the highest rate of turnover intention in the study, even higher than the study participants who were most burned out.
When companies provide sustainable work experiences, prioritize significance and mattering, amplify value, respect, and trust, and provide opportunities for people to learn and grow, they are literally providing the resources that are protective from burnout and enable people to thrive—and to stay.
Busy professionals can borrow three lessons from Liu’s journey.
First, separate identity from output. Leadership researcher Nick Petrie and his team found that developing other roles and identities outside of work helped people continue to work long hours but not burn out. Have a clear understanding of your work habits and what works for you each day in terms of how you get your work done.
Second, normalize recovery as part of high performance. Petrie and his team also found that having an “opposite world” is key. Your opposite world is a hobby or activity that puts you into a different state from the mindset you have at work. Are you an avid reader? A master gardener? A competition-level baker? Having an “opposite” world to visit with regularity acts as a powerful burnout buffer and, importantly, contributes to the work detachment and recovery that is necessary to manage high levels of stress.
Third, find your why. Three decades of research show that the combination of autonomy, connection, and challenge is the building block and core driver of intrinsic motivation. People want the freedom to choose how they perform their work and life tasks, to feel connected to and supported by others, and to be working toward new skills. If your motivation has waned, ask these simple but honest questions: What part of this work still energizes me? Where do I feel choice? What skills do I want to deepen? What impact am I making, and is it enough?
After time away from the sport, Liu surprised the skating world again by returning to competition. But this time, it was on her own terms. Her story reveals a quiet courage in stepping away from something you are objectively good at but no longer love. It also reveals courage in returning to it on your own terms. High performance and well-being are not opposites, but neither are they automatic companions. They require boundaries, recovery, and choice. In stepping away—and then stepping back—Alysa Liu reminds us that loving what you do is a renewable resource. And sometimes, the most strategic leadership move is to pause long enough to remember why you started in the first place.