Alexander Megos is one of the world's most successful sport climbers. He regularly competes in World Cup events and has represented Germany at the Olympics twice. Last year, the 32-year-old from Erlangen published his autobiography, "Frei am Fels" (Free on the Rock). In it, he speaks candidly about setbacks, anorexia, and how he found his way out of the pressure to perform – as he does here in this interview.
In his book, Alex Megos offers an extraordinary glimpse into his life and career. He discusses the highs and lows that have shaped him, the pressure he put on himself, and the challenges of professional sports. He demonstrates how closely performance, discipline, mental strength, and self-reflection are intertwined, and how crucial it is to take care of one's body and mental health.
In conversation with us, he talks about personal experiences, projects on the rock that have accompanied him for over a decade, and the lessons he has learned on his way as a professional.
In conversation with Alex Megos
Lacrux: "Free on the Rock" begins very personally. Were there also topics that you found difficult to write about?
Alex Megos: Yes, absolutely. Talking about personal issues, especially the deep ones, is always difficult. Topics like eating disorders, in particular, are still often taboo. Even in climbing, especially as a professional, it's not easy to openly admit failure or that you haven't achieved something. Most of the time, you only hear about the ascents and the successes, but not necessarily the processes behind them.
You usually hear a lot about professional athletes when they're doing well.
Alex Megos
What I hope is that readers will understand after reading this book that climbing isn't just a sport, but also a philosophy of life. It's about much more than just the sport itself – it's about the fact that life is full of ups and downs and that things can't always go well. We usually hear a lot about professional athletes when they're doing well. But what we rarely see is when they're struggling or when something hasn't worked out. It was important to me to show that people aren't alone with their problems – and that ultimately, everyone has to grapple with them.
When would you say that climbing became part of your identity?
I started climbing at a young age. For the first few years, it was really just a hobby, a sport I did alongside many others. I always enjoyed it – but it wasn't until I was twelve or thirteen that I realized how important climbing was to me. From that point on, I climbed significantly more and cut back on many other hobbies. Around fifteen or sixteen, the sport simply became very, very important to me. I defined myself largely through climbing and my performance. My entire environment revolved around it: my friends, the people I spent time with, even my vacations. By then, climbing was no longer just a sport for me.
Especially with children who are strong from an early age, one often wonders: Is that their own intrinsic motivation or does it come from their parents pushing them? What was it like for you?
My parents didn't push me at all. In my youth, they were more like the brakes – which, in retrospect, might not have been such a bad thing. The drive for achievement in sports always came from within myself. I was the only one who had that expectation of myself, and it was entirely of my own volition because it was simply important to me. Alongside the pure joy of climbing, the competitive drive was added very early on. I think I've always had it, even as a child. Even in my first climbing competitions, when I was eight or nine years old, my goal was to be the best I could be. Climbing was something that simply came extremely well to me. That's precisely why it was so important for me to consider this performance aspect as well. This drive has always been part of my identity – and not just in relation to climbing.
Would you say that the fun of climbing was sometimes less there because the pressure was so high?
There were definitely times when I found it difficult to cope with the pressure. I put so much pressure on myself that climbing was sometimes less enjoyable. But for me, that was a sign that I needed to learn how to manage this pressure and change my mindset. Today, for example, I really enjoy feeling that pressure – the thrill of whether certain projects will work out or not. I'm handling that relatively well now.
I think it was simply a learning process that probably everyone goes through to some extent. For me, that was especially true in my younger years – particularly when I started earning my living from climbing. It was definitely something I had to learn, and it took several years.
What helped you get out of that situation?
The realization that you don't save lives while climbing—or really, in anything you do. No one dies, and no one is saved, simply because you complete a particular route or not. I believe that's an important insight: In the end, it's "just" about climbing. You have to keep reminding yourself of that. My journey has been a steep climb, but in "Free on the Rock" I also explore another side of it. It also deals with disappointing periods that derailed me.
Looking back on those times today, what do you think about them?
I believe that all my highs and lows have been important for my personality and my development. Just when I started to see myself as a professional, I stopped taking rest days. In my mind, climbing was my job, and on rest days I often felt useless. I found it difficult to endure them, even though they are extremely important for the sport and for recovery.
Back then, I didn't have as many other projects in my life, like a climbing gym, climbing holds, competitions, and other things. I was sitting at home thinking: I have nothing to do, I can't just sit around and do nothing.
On my days off, I often felt useless.
Alex Megos
Frequent injuries, in particular, made me realize that I needed to change my training – and that it's not just what you do while climbing that matters, but also what you do during the rest of the time.
You dedicate your entire chapter to the route "Estado Critico" (9a). This route brought you into the media spotlight. What did that ascent mean to you back then?
For my career, that was obviously an incredible kickstarter. I think that even without »Estado Critico"I could have become a professional climber, but this whole thing massively accelerated the process. Especially because I became known everywhere overnight and didn't have to build that recognition over months or years."
Did you believe you would become a professional immediately afterwards?
When I climbed "Estado Critico," I was still just a hobby climber in my own eyes. I was ambitious and a good climber, but after school, I was essentially taking a gap year. I assumed that after a break, I would eventually start university and later have a regular job. Making money from climbing was something I couldn't imagine back then.
When did that become tangible for you?
I was probably 23 or 24 by then, so about five years later. I was actually already earning my living as a professional climber at that point, but for me it wasn't just about barely surviving. When you start a career, you also have to make sure you can live off it sustainably. Earning just enough to go climbing for five years, live with your parents, and not have to pay rent or health insurance – that wasn't yet the point where I could say I could truly live off climbing.
In your book, you primarily address a topic that accompanied you on your path to becoming a professional. Why was it important for you to address the topic of anorexia so openly?
I simply see that the former IFSC – now World Climbing – isn't doing anything about underweight athletes who obviously have a problem and are still allowed to compete. That's why I thought: I'll take matters into my own hands. It simply has to be addressed. I think it was also important because there are many people in climbing who are struggling with this issue.
You only have to look around at the World Cup: if everyone who follows the World Cups even a little can immediately name two or three people who obviously have a problem, then those in charge are either not interested or they are not looking closely enough.
Alex Megos
I simply hope that many young athletes understand that it's a real problem and that it can have long-term consequences if not addressed. Some people who lose weight think, "Ah, I'm just more disciplined than everyone else." I used to think that too. You believe you're tougher, more extreme, more professional—just because you're losing weight. But anyone can lose weight. It has nothing to do with being better than others. It only shows that you haven't yet understood how to truly be a professional. Coercion has nothing to do with discipline.
How has your understanding of discipline or self-discipline changed over the years?
I've realized that compulsion or the feeling of having to do something has nothing to do with discipline. I used to think discipline meant I had to do pull-ups every day and train for many hours – simply because I "had to" do it. It took me a really long time to understand that discipline actually means being able to decide what makes sense and then doing it, even if it's not fun. It also means letting go of things that don't make sense, even if they would sometimes be more enjoyable.
What advice would you give to young athletes? today they say, when they prioritize performance over their own health?
I was in that situation myself. Then you get comments like, "You'll have problems when you get older." Everyone says that, and back then I thought, "So what?!" There were also female doctors who said that having some padding was important in case you bumped yourself or fell. I thought to myself, "Okay, that's complete nonsense.". Even if it's theoretically true, these aren't arguments that truly protect someone.
Then it became clear to me what the crucial message is: You have to understand that you can't perform at your best in the long run in this state – even if it works in the short term. Anyone who truly wants to call themselves a professional athlete has to think long-term, to the point where they can make a living from climbing for five, ten, or ideally twenty years. You don't achieve that by performing at your peak for two years and then disappearing into obscurity for five. It only works by training hard, paying attention to your body, and being able to perform consistently over the long term.
I have found that in the long run, you are significantly more efficient if you manage to maintain a reasonable weight.
Alex Megos
Losing weight in the short term is possible, and every athlete does it at some point – especially before important projects or competitions. But you have to make sure that it stays within reasonable limits and, above all, doesn't become a permanent condition.
You have spoken very openly in favor of banning athletes with a BMI that is too low. Can you elaborate on your reasoning?
It's certainly the simplest and quickest solution, without any fuss. It's easy to measure and simple to implement. I think it's perfectly fine to ban people for health reasons if they're too thin. Then it's just a case of: "Gain some weight." Of course, if someone really has a problem, that doesn't help – it's the typical thing a grandmother says: "Oh, sweetheart, just gain some weight. What's the problem?" People with serious problems are more likely to seek help if the consequence is that they're no longer allowed to compete in the World Cup. Otherwise, there are hardly any consequences – except perhaps in ten years when they realize that being underweight for a long time wasn't so good for their health after all.
Perhaps there really is someone with a BMI of 17 who is perfectly healthy and is then unfortunately excluded from competition. But the fact is: most athletes with a BMI that is too low are not healthy. If someone calls themselves a professional athlete, they can also take on a little responsibility – for example, gaining three kilos or building muscle mass – and then everything will be fine again.
Would you say that this competitive machine contains mechanisms that promote unhealthy developments rather than prevent them?
Of course! The mere fact that you're not banned for being visibly underweight is already problematic. Those very people who then lose weight sometimes improve their ranking by twenty places from one year to the next – clearly because they've lost five or ten kilos. This then reinforces the misconception: "I'm on the right track."
There's no mechanism to prevent it. Ideally, it would work like this: "You've lost weight, but you're not allowed to compete this year." That way, those affected would realize early on: "Ah, this can't go on, I have a problem." But since that doesn't happen, many remain stuck in the wrong pattern for a long time – five, ten, or even fifteen years. The longer you're caught in something like that, the harder it becomes to get out.
In your opinion, are there any other measures that can help prevent this?
Here again, I see the responsibility lying with the national federations. For me, World Climbing is the authority that says: "You are not allowed to compete." After that, the responsibility lies with the national federations to provide these athletes with the necessary support so that they can overcome their problem.
Would you say that mental support in climbing now has the same importance as strength or technique training?
In competition, it becomes clear that mental performance is often at least as important as physical performance. There are people who appear "weak" but can achieve incredible things in competition because they can mentally focus perfectly in that moment. That's when everyone realizes how important mental strength is. The support from the national team coaches is important for me, but working weekly with my mental coach or my personal trainers is far more crucial. That's the immediate environment that truly supports me. Therefore, I believe that mental support is at least as important as training support.
Keyword: Mental coach: What has this training changed for you?
On the one hand, I can better focus my performance, and on the other hand, I've learned how to make everyday life and training more efficient – including recovery. A lot of it has to do with breathing, but it also involves many things that happen outside of climbing. For example, I've learned how to deal with everyday stress and what I can do to minimize stressors. We've worked intensively on these topics. Today, mental strength means discipline to me. I would have said the same thing ten or even fifteen years ago – only back then I confused discipline with coercion.
What about future plans? Is the focus more on rock climbing or on the competition stage?
My focus is clearly on rock climbing, especially for the next year. I don't want to rule out continuing to compete, and I don't rule out that it might become relevant again at some point. But right now, I just want things to go well outdoors on the rock. Competition climbing is temporary, rock climbing is forever. I still have too many projects outdoors that are important to me, and that's why I'll be investing the majority of my time there.
You've mentioned several times that you have a project in the Franconian Jura. Can you tell us more about it?
This is my first time working on a project here! The grade starts at nine. It's a five-star line, even if it weren't located in Franconia: independent, feasible, and simply really cool. It also perfectly embodies the style of the Franconian Jura. I first attempted this project over ten years ago. Back then, it seemed completely hopeless. I went there about two or three times a year and experimented a bit, but it never seemed possible. Until the beginning of this year. Since then, I've spent at least fifteen to twenty days there – I was there yesterday, and I'm going again tomorrow.
Have fun climbing, Alex! We're looking forward to the first ascent.
Here's the link to the interview on YouTube:
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Credits: Cover photo: Simon Klein, Bergfreunde; Images in the article: All images were provided by Alex Megos