1. 2005. Andorra, World Championships. I was at the start line of the world championships. The race was in Andorra, only an hour from my home. I was the favorite, in the world cup I had won the previous events that season. The countdown began. My legs almost failed, my pulse was skyrocketing. I knew I could win, but there were many possibilities I could lose. And if I didn’t win, I would be disappointed.
2. 2019. Everest. Autumn. The night before a push. The day before, I had fallen into a crevasse and been caught in an avalanche. The consequences of failure the next day were clear: death. The mountain was loaded with fresh snow, I was alone on a new route, at high altitude, with no one else around. My brain replayed every possible scenario.

In both cases, the pressure was big — but for very different reasons. On Everest, the consequence was physical; at racing, it was on the ego. Yet my body and mind reacted in similar ways: tunnel vision, elevated pulse, faster breathing, the feeling of standing on a cliff edge. Time is distorted, it feels fast/short (it feels that the event is already there and I have no anymore time to train, to do what I want to do to get ready…) and at the same time it feels slow/long (you want the event to be there now, or event behind, to avoid all the stress until the event)

That’s the paradox of pressure. It doesn’t always depend on objective danger. It’s about the meaning we attach to what’s at stake.

Pressure is the intersection between challenge, reward, and consequence.

• Challenge: the probability of success we think we have
• Reward: the outcome (material, physical and emotional) we expect if we succeed
• Consequence: the outcome (material, physical and emotional) we expect if we don’t succeed.

When we start a sport, there’s little expectation — we perform for curiosity, for discovery. The challenge is big, but the consequence of failure is small.

As success grows, the equation shifts. The reward (external: winning, recognition, status or internal: emotions we feel) fades with repetition. The consequence (disappointment, public criticism, loss of identity, etc.) becomes heavier. There’s mostly challenge and consequence left with small reward.

Athletes often feel they must match or exceed what they’ve already done. The role others assign — “the champion” “the favourite” — becomes a weight. The pleasure of being greeted or celebrated by others can be powerful, but it also risks making our self-worth conditional on results.

How does this pressure translates into the days, hours or minutes before a competition is different, but if we are not able to manage it, it often appears as anguish or anxiety. That could be shown in many ways (from character: irritability, loss of focus, mood… physical: elevated HR, loss of neuromuscular control, trembling, cramps, GI problems…)

From a psychological perspective, fear, anxiety, and anguish can also considered three degrees of the same state: the activation of the sympathetic nervous system, which prompts action when it is impossible.

Fear is a strong and intense emotion experienced in the presence of a real and immediate threat. It originates from a system that detects dangers and produces responses that increase our chances of survival in the face of this dangerous situation. In other words, it sets in motion a defensive behavioral sequence.

In humans, it can also arise from the mere thought of a potential danger. The main neural pathways responsible for this defensive reaction of fear are known, as are the circuits at the heart of this alarm system, the amygdala.

Anxiety is a vague and unpleasant emotion that reflects apprehension, distress, and a diffuse, unspecified fear. It can be triggered by various situations: an overabundance of information that we are unable to process, the difficulty of accepting certain things, a lack of information that makes us feel powerless, unpredictable or uncontrollable events in our lives, the feeling of being unable to cope with an event, and so on.

Anxiety can also result, and this is uniquely human—therefore stemming from a neocortical process—from the imagined construction of a situation that does not exist but is feared.

Anguish is characterized by the intensity of the psychological distress experienced, resulting from extreme worry (a feeling of suffocation, sweating, rapid pulse…) a vague but imminent danger before which one feels defenseless and powerless. Anguish often occurs in the form of attacks that are very difficult to control. The individual then struggles to analyze the origin of their anguish and becomes increasingly panicked as they feel palpitations, sweating, and trembling overwhelm them. The anxious person then focuses on the present and can only manage one task at a time. He shows signs of muscle tension, has difficulty breathing, and is experiencing digestive problems.

This stress that overwhelms us before a high stakes event, is therefore a forms of anxiety, and if we manage it, it can also have a positive aspect if it allows us to mobilize our energy to give our best at key moments. But it becomes harmful when it paralyzes us and prevents us from performing.

Overexposed – Social media and pressure

Until not long ago, this pressure was mostly shown during competitions, where others were witnessing the execution, but with today’s visibility of events and life in general, the reward / consequence has gained a much bigger place since all the actions, not only the outcome is seen as a challenge.

That might happen on feeling more pressure to do a ski turn on a high consequence downhill or to solo climb faster if is streamed live versus doing it alone, not feeling the pressure of being watched. Also can happen on showing all our training or life in social media – feeling pressure of needing to perform your best at every appearance/training session, that might be every day for some if very active in social media.

Last week I was reading an article by climber and writer Andy Kirkpatrick and found this quote very enlightening as hard as it is:

“You don’t own a YouTube channel; a YouTube channel owns you. That’s not a million subscribers; that’s a million pieces of your self-esteem and meaning held hostage.”

That line captures perfectly what many athletes live today. Social media magnifies the external gaze. We receive constant feedback — from fans, strangers, sponsors, and critics — and at the same time, we’re exposed to everyone else’s best performances.

It’s no longer just about what we do, but how it looks, how it’s received, and how it compares. Pressure no longer begins on the start line but in the moment we post a training session.

If one feels that is focussing more on the appreciation from others or from themselves on how the training he or she is doing in social media and that affects the training itself (going faster than prescribed, not stopping a session if feeling some problems because how it would look, feeling the need of doing more from weekly averages instead of prescription, etc) Probably is better to stop using those social media platforms (or have it private). And if sponsors really want one to publish, I believe honest conversations with them will make them understand and probably shifting content to something that doesn’t increases pressure to the athlete.

Learning to perform with pressure

Pressure is a tool our brain has as a predictive alarm system. It scans for future threats — physical, emotional, reputational — and activates the body’s survival mechanisms: adrenaline, cortisol, hyper focus. The same system that helped us avoid predators now reacts to expectations, cameras, or rankings. If we manage it, is a great tool to perform better using those physical changes due to ventilation, hormones and cognitive changes in focus and attention to enhance our capacities during the race.

I’ve noticed that being exposed to real, high-consequence environments — like climbing alone in dangerous terrain — has made me calmer in races. When failure once meant dying, failing to win becomes less important. But of course, risking your life to train your emotional resilience is not the ideal method. There are other ways to cultivate that same sense of presence and detachment.

Many times we feel pressure before an event because our expectations and our vision of ourselves at that moment differ. We feel that if we had not been injured, if we had not been sick, if we hadn’t missed that training session… we would be ready, but we are not. Reality is that we can’t change what is happening and one of the most helpful tips – easy to say, more to do – is to be very rational: Not think about other possible scenarios if X, but see where we are in reality and focus on what we can and need to do to perform our best. To focus on the task and not on the outcome and forgot about the ifs at any time something happens, and it’s very rare that nothing happens in any preparation.

Other strategies:

1. Gradual exposure to pressure

Simulate the stress of competition during training. Run key sessions with cameras on, spectators watching, or times being recorded. The brain adapts to the feeling of being observed, making the real event less disruptive. For example treating one workout each month as “the final,” with full pre-race rituals, expectations to do certain times…

2. Cognitive reframing

Language shapes perception. Shifting from “I have to win” to “I want to perform my best” or from “everyone expects me to win” to “I control my effort” changes the appraisal from threat to challenge.

3. Mindfulness and attentional control

Short breathing or grounding routines (5–10 minutes) before or after training help recognize emotions without judgment. The goal isn’t to calm down, but to notice activation without letting it control behavior.

4. Realistic visualization

Most athletes visualize success, but imagining obstacles — mistakes, fatigue, rivals — and visualizing a positive reaction builds emotional resilience. When the challenge arrives, the mind has already rehearsed it.

Competition-day strategies

Pressure peaks before and during competition. These tools help transform it into focus:

• Pre-race rituals: A fixed routine (timings, music, meals…) provides familiarity and control.
• Breathing: if stress is high before the competition, deep breathing with long exhaling (for example inhaling in 5” and exhaling in 10”) will activate the parasympathetic nervous system. In the contrary, if we are not “motivated” or “activated” we can do controlled hyperventilation, or long inhaling and short and strong exhaling, short 10-20” apneas after exhaling, or big thoracic mobility and high jumps will help on activating the sympathetic nervous system.
• Process goals: Define actions you can control (“keep rhythm at X pace”, “do smooth transitions”, “eat and drink that”…) rather than outcomes.
• Cue words and self talk: Short anchors words to redirect focus when distractions appear. Motivation sentences and self talk.

Surrounding environment

Managing pressure isn’t only internal, it’s also social. The environment around the athlete can amplify or reduce it.

• Media and social protection: Limit exposure to interviews and networks in the final weeks before competition. Create distance between performance and public commentary.
• Safe core: Surround yourself with people — coach, partner, training mates — who reinforce process, not outcome.
• Normalize pressure: Talk openly about it. Pressure is not weakness; it’s commitment. Pressure is energy waiting to be directed.

Pressure will always exist where ambition meets uncertainty. It’s part of what makes sport meaningful. The question is not how to eliminate it, but how to live with it consciously.

Pressure is not the enemy. It’s a signal — that we care, that something matters deeply. And when understood, it can become a powerful ally: a source of energy, presence, and clarity.