How to Stop Overthinking Under Pressure: A Lesson in Fear, Pressure, and Performance

Early in his military career, Ulysses S. Grant found himself deep in East Texas on a treacherous journey. Supplies were low. A man was sick. A horse had given out. Grant and a fellow officer were forced to make a 70-mile trek—on foot—through snake-infested, outlaw-patrolled country to avoid being declared AWOL.

The pressure was real. And then came the howls.

Not one. Not two. A full chorus from somewhere in the brush.

Wolves.

Grant couldn’t see them, but his imagination didn’t need help. In his words, they sounded “ready to devour our party, horses and all, in a single meal.” His pulse quickened. His thoughts spiraled. He prayed his partner would suggest turning back.

Instead, the man beside him—calm, seasoned, steady—just smiled and asked, “Grant, how many wolves do you think that is?”

Grant swallowed. “At least twenty.”

They kept walking. And when they finally reached the source of the sound?

Two.

Two wolves. Lying in the grass. Calm. Almost amused.

That night, Grant learned something most people never do: Fear multiplies in the dark. Your imagination inflates the threat until it towers over your ability. Most of what we run from isn’t real; it’s rehearsed in our heads.

Years later, that lesson would return.

Now a lieutenant colonel, Grant was leading troops into Missouri against Confederate forces. The air was thick with tension. As they advanced, they found every town abandoned. Not a soul in sight. It felt like walking into an ambush.

Grant’s heart pounded.

“I would have given anything to be back in Illinois,” he later wrote.

But he didn’t stop. He didn’t freeze. He kept walking.

Up the hill. Toward the silence. Toward the fear.

And when they reached the summit—expecting battle—there was nothing.

The enemy had already retreated. Why?

Because they’d heard he was coming.

And in that moment, clarity hit him like daylight through the fog.

“It occurred to me that Harris had been as much afraid of me as I had of him.”

From then on, Grant still felt pressure, but never fear. Because he finally understood: The enemy has just as much reason to fear you as you do them.

Mental Lesson: Count the Wolves

Fear is a storyteller. And often, it’s a liar.

That’s what Grant learned in the woods of Texas, and it’s what most competitors never do: he stopped and counted.

Most people never reach that clearing. By the time they hear the howls, their minds have already multiplied them. They imagine the failure, the judgment, the rejection. They picture what could go wrong instead of what could go right. Fear turns from a signal into a story with a dreadful ending, and they start believing every word.

Counting the wolves is how you rewrite that story. It’s awareness in action. It’s the ability to separate imagination from information.

Here’s how it works:

1. Name the Wolves. The key is specificity. Fear thrives in vagueness. 
   

   • “I’m nervous” becomes “I’m afraid I’ll miss the shot.” 

   • “I’m worried” becomes “I don’t want to look unprepared.” 

   • Naming the wolf gives it definition, and once it has definition, it has limits.
     

2. Count Them. Move from emotion to data. Once the fear is visible, assess it. 
   

   • Which ones are real? 

   • Which ones are noise? 

   • Which of these fears has evidence behind it? 

   • Most dissolve under inspection. A few remain real, and those are the ones you prepare for.
     

3. Choose the Hill. Re-establish agency. Pick one action you can take that keeps you moving. The hill is your Next Best Action, the next action within your control. It might be your breath, your anchoring routine, your focus cue, or your body language. Choosing the hill gives your energy a direction.
   

   • “I can’t control how loud the crowd is, but I can control my breathing and perception before this serve.”

   • “I can’t control how they’re defending me, but I can control my aggressiveness and my ability to get my teammates open.”

   • “I can’t control what they think about this sales pitch, but I can control my preparation and my body language.”
     

Awareness doesn’t eliminate fear, but it does help bring it back into perspective. You stop reacting to the howls and the shadows and start responding to the reality staring back at you.

Next Rep: The Fear Inventory

Pressure multiplies possibilities. Your job is to find clarity inside them.

Take two minutes to do this quick fear inventory:

1. Think of a current pressure moment—a game, a decision, a conversation.

2. List every “what if” circling your thoughts.

3. Then rate each one from 1 to 10.

   • 1–3: unlikely noise

   • 4–7: manageable challenges

   • 8–10: real possibilities that deserve preparation

You’ll see most of your wolves live in the 1–4 range. The mind imagines more danger than reality delivers.

Clarity shrinks the noise. Awareness returns control.

Final Buzzer

Fear multiplies in the dark because imagination loves a blank canvas. But once you stop and count, the picture sharpens. The wolves aren’t as many—or as menacing—as they seemed.

And here’s the part most people miss: the same fear you feel in those moments? The other side feels it too. The opponent across from you. The critic in the stands. The CEO you’re trying to impress. Everyone hears their own howls.

Courage isn’t the absence of fear; it’s the decision to move anyway. It’s your ability to look into the darkness, hear the howls, count what’s real, and choose to walk towards the howls anyway.

So when the howls rise and the night feels heavy, remember the process.

Count the wolves. Climb the hill. Move forward with composure.

That’s where courage lives and confidence is built. 

Challenging you head-on and always in your corner,

​— Coach VJ