Kintana ILTIS | 2026 French Lead Climbing Championships

A selective process full of lessons

First of all, it was important for me to thank the AMEG Group.

This collaboration has meant so much more than just sharing. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write about parts of my journey in these three articles published throughout the year. It’s been a real privilege to share my journey—both athletic and personal—and to recount the important milestones that shape my daily life. I’m looking forward to continuing next year.

This third article picks up exactly where the previous one left off: in the midst of preparations, just a few weeks before the French National Team Tryouts, scheduled for the weekend of March 21.

During those last two weeks of training before the tryouts, I felt good and strong on the routes. I couldn’t wait for the tryouts to start—I was ready to give it my all.

During that last competition, I felt a real shift in the way I approach competition. For the first time in a long time, I managed to sleep well the night before a major event. It may seem trivial, but for me, that’s already a huge deal.

The warm-up happens in that state where everything just feels right. I felt ready, confident, and in the zone: neither too stressed nor too relaxed. I was fully present. I could clearly visualize the routes in my head, and I was certain that everything was in place. But climbing doesn’t always reward what you’ve built up in silence. Unfortunately, on the first qualifying route, I was caught off guard when my hand “slipped,” causing me to fall. That frustration of a single mistake that erases everything, leaving me with the feeling that I hadn’t been able to show what I’m capable of. But there was still a second route. On that one, I lost my footing on a difficult move and couldn’t reposition my feet. That was the end of my competition. Tenth place. Far from what I’d hoped for.

Changing the Way We View Competition

On the way home, I had only one thought: the French Championships at the end of May. Another chance. And with a little perspective—the kind that never comes right away—I try to look beyond the rankings. Because something happened in that qualifying race. Something real, even if it wasn’t visible in the results. Ever since the warm-up, I’d been fully present in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time: focused, determined, committed, totally in the moment. It had been three or four years since I’d been able to climb with that feeling of freedom. Three or four years of coming away from competitions with that nagging feeling that I hadn’t fully expressed myself, that I hadn’t pushed myself to the limit of what I knew I was capable of. The frustration wasn’t in the results; it was in that deep, recurring sense of something missing. That March qualifier had cracked something open. I knew it. I’d rediscovered the sensations and approach I’d been searching for for a long time. That competition showed me that the work I’d put in this year was heading in the right direction. I needed to keep building on that and carry those changes forward into the next events, so they’d become firmly rooted and solid.

May 30, 2026 Cht France Finals, Saint-Étienne © Arthur Delicque-1746

Rediscover the sensations

To get back into the swing of things before the Championships, I decided to compete in the semifinals of the Southern France Championship in Marseille. My first “real” competition of the year, on May 2.

Qualifying events are a world of their own: small crowds, no buzz, a closed-off atmosphere—sometimes even oppressive. They’re first and foremost selection competitions; there’s a spot to be earned, and you can feel it in the air. No podiums, no collective energy, none of that connection with the crowd that’s also part of this sport. I missed that kind of atmosphere. And I was both eager and a little stressed at the thought of reconnecting with that energy. I knew that a lot had changed within me over the past few months. First, in training: I’d learned to let go of the need to control everything, to trust myself, and to commit more fully to my movements. Then, in the way I viewed things: accepting that a mistake doesn’t define a competition, that a fall doesn’t erase everything I’d built up. But above all—and this is where things really changed—in my relationship with what I felt before climbing. For a long time, pre-competition stress was something to fight against, to suppress. I’d begun to understand that it wasn’t the enemy. That this adrenaline, this tension in my stomach, could become fuel rather than an obstacle. I had an immense desire to climb, to express myself fully, almost to dance on the wall. And another ambition, simpler and more direct: I was going there to win.

The Turning Point in Marseille

I’m going to share a few lines I wrote right after that competition, because they describe what happened that weekend better than I ever could: “Last weekend, everything fell into place: my mind, my body, and my spirit. I was ready, I felt strong, and above all, I wanted to climb, to express myself, and to dance on the wall. It had been a long time since I’d felt that way: light, free, almost as if I were flying—and, most of all, enjoying climbing in competition so much. ” “ I was the only one to top out all the routes, and I let a few tears slip out. Of course, I’d won the competition. But deep down, it wasn’t just about that. Above all, I’d rediscovered something much greater: that deep joy, those sensations, and that freedom that I’d been missing for so long.”

When Everything Falls into Place

It was intense. I was happy and grateful; experiencing that as an athlete is powerful. It was one of those competitions that’s unlike any other because it confirms something you’ve sensed for a while but haven’t dared to put into words yet.

All the hard work this year, all those adjustments, this new way of approaching a competition—it finally made sense. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I was exactly where I belonged. Maybe that was it—the “flow,” that state people talk about in elite sports, where action and consciousness become one, where effort ceases to feel like an effort.

Ready for the French Championships

The French Championships are just four days away. I have only one desire: to climb with determination, freedom, and a fighting spirit. To savor every moment. And to keep writing the next chapter.

AMEG Group | Team Ameg Sport  partner of Triomphe Collectif

See also:

• Kintana ILTIS | From the Indian Ocean to the mountain peaks: A determined woman’s climb
• Kintana ILTIS | Between studies, training, and roads ahead