What I Do When I Feel Overwhelmed Before a Competition

The hours before a competition can make even ordinary tasks feel enormous. At an eventing competition, there is a horse to ride, gear to clean, a timetable to follow, food to organise, and a brain that suddenly wants to consider every possible problem at once. I can be excited about the dressage arena, the show-jumping track and the cross-country course while also feeling as though I have forgotten something important.

What I do when I feel overwhelmed before a competition is bring the day back to a few practical actions. I stop trying to solve the entire weekend in my head and focus on the next useful thing: filling the water buckets, checking the bridle, walking the cross-country route, or taking a proper breath. That shift does not erase nerves, but it makes them manageable and gives me a way to keep moving.

Make A Short Plan I Can Actually Follow

My first step is to write down what truly needs to happen and separate it from the tasks that would simply be nice. The horse needs to be fed, watered, groomed and presented safely. I need to know my ride times, collect my number, check the warm-up arrangements and have the required equipment ready. Everything else belongs on a secondary list.

A long checklist can become another source of pressure, so I use a short version with broad headings: horse, rider, gear and timetable. Under “horse”, I might write feed, water, rugs and medications. Under “rider”, I include boots, helmet, body protector, food and a spare shirt. Under “gear”, I list the saddle, bridle, competition clothing, grooming kit and cross-country essentials.

This is especially useful when a competition involves a long float trip from regional Queensland or New South Wales to a venue near Brisbane or Sydney. Travel days can start before sunrise, and the familiar Australian routine of stopping for servo coffee does not replace a proper check of the horse. I like to confirm the departure time, planned breaks and arrival plan before I load, rather than trying to make decisions while tired on the road.

I also check the event schedule through the official channels instead of relying on memory or a message passed around the stable. Ride times, gear rules and venue instructions can change. If the competition is in another state, I make sure I understand any movement documentation and biosecurity requirements that apply. Australian state biosecurity systems are not identical, and a little preparation is easier than discovering at the gate that a declaration, health record or property detail is missing.

Reduce Decisions Around The Stable

Overwhelm grows when every small job feels like a decision. I reduce that feeling by preparing as much as possible before the competition morning. Feed is portioned, rugs are labelled, grooming supplies are packed and competition clothes are placed together. If I am staying away, I know where the horse will be tied, where water is available and when the next feed is due.

The local equestrian market can make this preparation uneven. At different times of year, hay, shavings, feed and agistment can be expensive or difficult to source, particularly around major events in Victoria or New South Wales. I try to avoid relying on a last-minute purchase from a nearby stock feed shop. A missing item may be available in a city suburb but impossible to find at a rural venue after closing time.

I pack a small “boring but essential” kit: spare gloves, plaiting bands, electrical tape, safety pins, sunscreen, fly spray, hand sanitiser and a basic first-aid supply. Australian conditions make some of these items especially valuable. A hot, exposed venue can turn a comfortable morning into a dehydrating one, while a sudden shower can leave every clean saddlecloth and jacket damp.

The horse’s comfort remains the centre of the preparation. I watch for changes in appetite, manure, attitude, soundness and hydration instead of assuming that a competition plan must continue because we have already travelled. If something seems wrong, I involve the appropriate professional early. A vet, coach or experienced support person can help me make a calm welfare decision before nerves turn a small concern into a crisis.

Use Training Routines To Settle My Mind

When I feel overloaded, I return to the same warm-up principles I use at home. I do not need an impressive schooling session before a test. I need a horse who is listening, moving comfortably and responding to simple aids. A few transitions, changes of rein and moments of soft contact usually tell me more than chasing a perfect final-minute performance.

This is where the horse-and-rider partnership matters. The competition atmosphere can be busy, with loudspeakers, horses moving in every direction, people rushing between arenas and riders watching the clock. My horse may notice those details too. I keep my requests clear and familiar, reward the good responses and avoid turning my anxiety into constant correction.

For dressage, I think about rhythm, accuracy and the first few movements rather than the mark sheet as a whole. For show jumping, I focus on the opening line, the pace and the feeling I want before the first fence. For cross-country, I break the course into questions: the start, the first combination, the water, the technical sections and the finish. This approach gives my mind somewhere specific to go.

I also use a short breathing pattern while mounted or standing beside the horse. I breathe out longer than I breathe in, release my shoulders and feel both feet on the ground. It sounds basic because it is basic, but simple physical actions are often easier to access than complicated positive thinking. If my hands are tight, my jaw is clenched or I am holding my breath, my horse is likely to feel that tension.

A coach’s voice can help, although I prefer one or two clear reminders rather than a stream of instructions. “Keep the rhythm” or “look to the next question” is useful. A detailed analysis of every possible error five minutes before a round is not. I am allowed to protect my concentration, even when well-meaning people are trying to help.

Give Nerves A Proper Place

I used to think that feeling calm was the goal. Now I see pre-competition nerves as information rather than evidence that I am unprepared. They tell me that the result matters and that I am stepping outside the ordinary routine. The aim is not to become emotionless; it is to stop anxiety from controlling every choice.

Writing down the specific fear can take some of its force away. “I am worried about the competition” is too large to act on. “I am worried I will forget the dressage test,” “I am worried about the water complex,” or “I am worried my horse will be unsettled in the warm-up” is more useful. Each concern can have a response, such as carrying a test sheet, walking the water question again or arriving early enough to watch the warm-up.

Family and friends are part of this process too. Competition weekends often involve someone driving the float, holding the horse, taking photos, finding food or reminding me where I left my phone. I try to tell them what kind of support I need. Sometimes I want a practical hand with the gear; sometimes I need quiet; sometimes I need someone to remind me that one imperfect movement will not define the whole day.

Living around the sport also means accepting that plans can change. A delayed class, a storm, a slippery surface or a horse that needs extra time may alter the schedule. Australian events can involve significant distances and unpredictable weather, from humid Brisbane mornings to cold, windy conditions outside Melbourne. Flexibility is a skill, not a sign that the preparation has failed.

After a demanding event, I have also learned that recovery is part of competition preparation. I like to schedule a massage after an event because it gives me a deliberate transition out of competition mode. Looking after my own body helps me recognise how much effort the weekend required instead of immediately judging the score or replaying every mistake.

Focus On The Next Ride, Not The Whole Weekend

The phrase “the whole competition” creates a heavy mental picture. There may be three phases, multiple days, several gear changes and a lot of waiting. I cope better when I treat each phase as its own job. Once dressage is finished, I put the test away and prepare for the next task. Once show jumping is complete, I reset for cross-country.

That does not mean ignoring useful information. I may note that my horse needs a longer walk, a quieter warm-up or a different rug. I may speak with my coach about a turn or a line that needs attention. Then I stop analysing. Replaying a round repeatedly can feel productive while quietly draining the energy needed for the next one.

Food and water are easy to neglect when I am busy. I keep snacks where I can reach them and choose familiar food that will not upset my stomach. A sandwich, fruit, muesli bar and electrolyte drink are more reliable than waiting until late afternoon to find something at the venue. In Australia, a hot day can make dehydration arrive quickly, particularly when I am wearing competition clothes and moving between arenas.

I make time for a few ordinary habits as well. I sit down for five minutes, check in with the people who have come to help, and spend quiet time with my horse without asking for anything. A brush, a hand on a warm neck or a slow walk around the stable area can remind me that this is a partnership, not an examination.

The most helpful question is not whether I can guarantee a good result. I cannot. The useful question is what I can do well next. I can ride the line I planned, keep communicating with my horse, make safe decisions and stay present through the phase in front of me. That is enough structure to carry me through the nerves.

When the pressure starts building before your next competition, make the day smaller. Write the short list, prepare the essentials, eat something, breathe out, and choose one clear task. Let your support team know how they can help, and give yourself permission to adjust the plan when your horse or the conditions require it. Competition nerves may still come along, but they do not have to take the reins.