I think the greatest amount of pressure is the pressure I place

“I think the greatest amount of pressure is the pressure I place on myself. So in a way I chose to be alone.”
So spoke Cathy Freeman, the woman who ran not only for herself, but for her people — an Olympic champion whose victory carried the spirit of a nation. Her words are not of sorrow, but of strength. They speak of the sacred solitude that accompanies greatness — the self-imposed pressure that forges character, discipline, and purpose. In her confession lies an ancient truth: that those who seek to do extraordinary things must often walk alone, not because they reject others, but because the fire that drives them can be tended only in the silence of the self.

To choose to be alone is not to flee companionship, but to step into the forge of one’s own making. Freeman’s solitude was not isolation; it was concentration — a narrowing of the world until only the goal remained. The ancients would have called this the path of the warrior, the monk, the artist — all who must descend into their own depths to bring forth greatness. The pressure within becomes both the weight and the wings, the force that both burdens and uplifts. Such solitude is not punishment; it is preparation.

In the ancient days, even kings and conquerors knew this law. Before battle, Alexander the Great would often withdraw from his men, walking in silence beneath the stars. He understood that the greatest battles are not fought upon the fields of war, but within the heart. Like Freeman, he bore a burden unseen by others — not the shouts of enemies, but the whisper of expectation. For when the world looks to you as its symbol, the heaviest crown is invisible. Thus, he too chose to be alone, to listen to the quiet voice that says, “You must be more than you were yesterday.”

Cathy Freeman’s story, like those of the ancients, reminds us that solitude and excellence are kin. In the year 2000, beneath the floodlights of Sydney, she carried the weight of history — a nation’s hope for reconciliation, pride, and progress. She knew the eyes of millions were upon her, yet the greatest gaze she felt was her own. That race was not simply between athletes; it was between fear and faith, between pressure and peace. And when she crossed the line in victory, it was not the world she had conquered — it was herself.

But such triumphs do not come without cost. The path of self-demand can be lonely. To demand greatness of oneself is to dwell often in silence, to face doubts that no one else can hear. Yet this loneliness is sacred, for it shapes the soul into something resilient and radiant. It teaches the art of patience, the strength of focus, the humility to endure. The pressure one places upon oneself becomes a teacher sharper than any external challenge. Those who master it rise; those who flee from it remain unchanged.

Still, there is a danger hidden in this solitude. For if the inner pressure becomes too heavy, if one forgets to rest, to breathe, to receive the warmth of others, the same fire that once strengthened can consume. Thus, the wise must learn balance — to walk alone without forgetting the world, to carry the burden of excellence without losing the joy of being. Even the most disciplined heart must open sometimes to love, laughter, and the simple company of others.

The lesson of Freeman’s words is therefore both noble and tender: greatness is born in solitude, but must be sustained by connection. When you feel the weight of your own expectations, do not fear it — shape it. Let your solitude sharpen your focus, not harden your heart. When the pressure feels unbearable, remember that it is proof of your own striving. To feel deeply the pull of purpose is the privilege of the living.

So, like Cathy Freeman, dare to choose to be alone — not in bitterness, but in purpose. Let your solitude become your training ground, your temple, your quiet source of power. Stand in it until your spirit is steady, your vision clear, your strength sure. Then return to the world, not as one who escaped it, but as one who has mastered the silence within. For the greatest victories are not won by those who seek to escape pressure — but by those who have learned to transform it into light.