Why Is Opera Singing So Physically Demanding That It’s Often Compared to Athletic Competition?

PHOTOS: EDA BABÁK, FILIP BERÁNEK

Pavel Stejskal: I’m Used to Taking Hits

Opera and sport share more in common than one might expect. First of all, in both fields, technique is everything. The right technique saves energy and increases efficiency. For singers, it preserves the vocal cords well into later years; for athletes, muscles are the essential instrument. In sport as in art, everything begins in the mind. It’s the brain that sends signals to the body—it’s what we call willpower. The moment you give in to the thought that the stitch in your side is too much, the moment you let pain into your head, you might as well get out of the pool, off the bike, or stop running and call it quits. Singing works the same way. If there’s a tricky spot in an aria and you fail once, the next attempt comes with doubt—and doubt makes the voice collapse.

Singing is tied to feeling. A vocal coach must also be a psychologist, helping singers push through mental barriers. In short, the common denominator between opera and sport is the demand for both physical and mental energy at the highest level. In endurance sports, lung capacity is crucial—something perfectly aligned with singing. In theory, a trained singer should be able to slip seamlessly into the rhythm of breathing required in almost any endurance discipline. And of course, the reverse is also true.

As a singer improves, he naturally starts looking for reasons behind the progress—what changed, what led to it. “I realized that since I began training six days a week—whether on the bike, in the gym, running, or swimming—I sing better. Sport has made my body not only stronger, but also more flexible. And overall flexibility is crucial in opera. Let’s not forget: the vocal cords are muscles too. I just really don’t want it to sound like opera singers should also look like athletes. I’m absolutely against body shaming—each of us has different predispositions,” says Pavel Stejskal, a 16-year-old student at the Jan Deyl Conservatory and a competitive road cyclist.

JST: The obvious first question—did you ever experience bullying at elementary school in Náchod because of singing? Kids at that age, armed with today’s technology, can be cruel toward classmates who stand out…
PS: Unfortunately, that’s true. But my case was a little different. Even as a kid, I threw myself into “boyish” activities. I was good at almost every sport, and by the time I was eleven, I was already going to the gym. Honestly, I could probably have taken down any of my classmates in a wrestling match, so I earned respect early on. When I added singing to that—and performed at school concerts—it sparked more wonder than mockery. Strangely enough, the most support actually came from the so-called “tough guys.” But I won’t deny it: those very first performances brought not only stage fright but also a huge fear of how I would be received.

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For some, cycling is a hobby; for me, it’s an emotional connection. It brings me a sense of mental calm that flows directly into my music.

JST: How does your body handle both singing and athletic training? You’re essentially doing a two-a-day almost every day…
PS: I have to pace my training carefully. Every cyclist plans their workouts a year in advance, knowing when they have one or two races in the season. Mine is in June. And even now, in February, I’m already planning what types of training I’ll do. Some of my teammates have long morning runs, but that’s impossible for me—singing properly in cold air would be harmful. On the other hand, short evening runs help me before a performance. Singing is more physically demanding than most people realize. I monitor all kinds of metrics on my smartwatch, including heart rate and stress levels. When I sing, my heart rate rises to the level of a light run—and that’s just during lessons, not performances. A full opera is equivalent to an athletic race, because besides singing, you also have to act on stage—often quite intensely.

JST: What does cycling give you?
PS: For some, cycling is a hobby; for me, it’s an emotional connection. It brings me mental calm, which translates directly into music: you need a clear mind to sing well. On the bike, I have plenty of time to think. Cycling has taught me discipline, and I approach problems differently now. Back in Náchod, I was seen as the local champion—good at sports and also able to sing. Coming to the conservatory was a shock; everyone could sing better than me, and my sports achievements didn’t matter. Normally, that might have crushed me—but from sports, I was already used to taking hits.

JST: Do you ever listen to opera during training?
PS: Sometimes, yes—mostly Dvořák and Verdi. Otherwise, whether I’m exercising or relaxing, I listen a lot to American and Czech hip-hop: MC Gey, Kendrick Lamar, Kanye West, or Viktor Sheen. It’s the total opposite of opera, which helps me unwind from classical music.

JST: What if you improved so much in both areas that you had to choose between opera and cycling?
PS: That’s an impossible question. Opera is already my life, my passion, but I also love cycling—I can’t imagine turning down a professional team offer. Plus, your question raises other issues, like whether one can even make a living from opera here. Honestly, I wouldn’t want to make such a decision at my age based on clichéd criteria.

JST: Would you rather have a beer with Antonín Dvořák or Eddie Merckx?
PS: First of all, I wouldn’t drink at all—I’m abstinent for sports, and given my age, they probably wouldn’t serve me anyway. But if I had to choose, I’d pick Dvořák. I think a conversation with him would teach me more. I’d ask him how he transformed personal sorrow into something as beautiful as the Stabat Mater. That would definitely be more interesting than discussing training intervals with Merckx. Pavel noticed that sports are sometimes looked down upon at the conservatory. Although physical fitness helps singing, the school worries that sports might stiffen muscles. Some teachers even forbid sopranos from going to the gym. Few students push themselves physically like Pavel does, even though traditional PE, running, or ball games expand the lungs—something that benefits singing. Opera is incredibly demanding physically, but it shouldn’t feel that way on stage; everything must appear effortless. Pavel has seen young singers for whom the physical strain of singing is very visible. A healthy level of fitness and sensible physical education would help them. Ideally, there should be a teacher who understands both singing and sport. Of course, there are also fundamental differences in approach. In competitive sports, the goal is to finish first. In singing, the opposite is true—the more you focus on “getting it over with,” the more likely it is that muscles around the vocal cords will stiffen, affecting the whole performance. Even though the physical effort on stage is often comparable to an athletic race, a singer must forget competitive thinking, which is natural in sport.

Richard Haan: Singing with Ice-Cold Calm

Legendary vocal coach René Tuček once had a soprano come to him, asking for help with her singing issues. He told her to put on sweatpants and go for a run. When Tuček himself needed to master an operatic phrase, he would run up a hill and practice it there until it was perfect. René Tuček was also the teacher of long-time State Opera Prague soloist Richard Haan. Over his remarkable career, Haan performed 140 baritone roles—including Nabucco, Rigoletto, and Falstaff by Giuseppe Verdi, as well as Přemysl in Smetana’s Libuše—not only in the Czech Republic but in opera houses in Vienna, Salzburg, Berlin, Hamburg, Paris, Madrid, Monte Carlo, and beyond.

Richard Haan is also a dedicated endurance swimmer and cold-water enthusiast. In 2000, he swam across the Strait of Gibraltar, and five years later, he conquered the English Channel. He successfully repeated the latter feat in a relay with friends from the Braník club in 2023—at the impressive age of 74!

Sport teaches opera singers proper lifestyle habits and discipline. Only through this are they able to handle the immense demands of opera—especially when traveling extensively and performing multiple times a week in different venues and roles. "The lack of time was particularly frustrating during tours abroad," Haan recalls. "We were constantly on the move, and I never had the chance to swim in the local waters. On top of that, my form would drop, and it took a long time to get back to peak condition. When I was preparing for my fourth (and successful) attempt to swim across the English Channel, I insisted that I wouldn’t take on any new productions during that period, because I was undergoing intense swim training six days a week."

When I was preparing to swim the English Channel in 1999, I was simultaneously engaged in an opera production in Monte Carlo.

JST: Did water or opera find you first?
RH: My path to swimming and opera was equally curious. At the age of ten, I almost drowned under a weir. It was a similar story with opera: at my first singing competition in Písek, when I performed the song Voděnka studená jako led (“Little Water Nymph, Cold as Ice”), I was eliminated in the preliminary round. At the time, I had no idea how significant that song would become in my life.

JST: So you didn’t swim while performing abroad?
RH: There usually wasn’t time. But when I was preparing to swim the English Channel in 1999, I happened to be engaged in an opera production in Monte Carlo. Whenever I wanted to train, I would ask the director how it fit into the schedule. Each time, he just looked at me, gestured with his hand, and said, “Go swim!” It was January, the water was 14°C, perfect for training.

JST: Which brings us to your other passion: cold-water swimming…
RH: During one of my Channel attempts, I spent twenty hours in the water—you can’t prepare for that overnight. I also trained on partially frozen lakes in Norfolk, USA, and swam in the Rhine in Germany during winter. Unfortunately, people often called out to me, worried I was drowning, and sometimes even called the fire department or rescue services. People generally don’t understand cold-water swimming well, and their concern is understandable.

JST: What do you think about the fact that conservatories don’t encourage singers to do sports?
RH: With the demanding schedule of opera and the physical requirements placed on singers, you need fitness—something primarily developed through sports. Everyone should maintain at least some recreational activity. Even something as simple as running up Petřín hill from the conservatory and singing there can help.

A sprinter trains short distances to develop muscle memory. At first, it’s difficult, but after running 150 meters for the hundredth time, the body responds naturally. Opera is similar: when a singer learns a new role, it’s difficult at first because the muscles don’t know what to do—every interval is challenging, every word different. There’s a parallel with hurdling: a runner has to calculate and train the body to push off correctly and breathe properly before each hurdle. A singer does the same—they know that after seven notes comes an interval that requires breath, muscle, and mental energy. The brain must learn to overcome it. Neither an athlete nor a singer can tackle the challenge last minute.

Once muscle memory is built, the body can perform even when it doesn’t feel at its best. Even if it’s not a career-defining performance, the body can handle it because it’s been trained a thousand times. In both fields, when you finally perform, you get only one chance. Hours and hours of running training culminate in ten seconds of sprinting. Likewise, months of practicing text, melody, rhythm, breathing, support, and diaphragm lead to a performance where you must deliver the same intensity as a sprinter.

Soňa Godarská: Cross-Country Skiing or Opera? Both!

"When I face a phrase with long legato lines, I need to know in advance when and how to breathe so I can carry it to the very end," says soprano Soňa Godarská, last year’s recipient of the Thalia Award in Opera. "In both cross-country skiing and singing, you have to calm yourself and be aware of how much is left to the finish. I always think: what would Therese Johaug do—my role model in endurance skiing? She has to know exactly what heart rate she can sustain and when to push to the maximum, so her body can endure the whole race and still finish first. I have to do the same. When I feel off, I need to calm down and go below my stress threshold to make it through the phase. High heart rate, constant tension, and strain cause vocal defects—it’s the same as cramps for a skier. What’s in a cramp doesn’t work. Neither in sport, nor in singing."

JST: In a previous interview, you mentioned that your dream is to compete in cross-country skiing.
SG: I still want to compete at a professional level. Whenever we’re on ski touring or cross-country skis, I want to give everything I’ve got, because my body can endure a lot and thrives under the challenge. I long to push myself to the physical limit and then focus on recovery and rehabilitation. I also know that in a short time, I’m capable of making significant progress—and thanks to singing, I understand what I must forgo in order to move forward.

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Sticking to singing alone doesn’t satisfy me. I’m constantly striving to explore the world of elite sports as well.

JST: Speaking of rehabilitation, do opera singers have physiotherapists, masseurs, and psychologists like elite athletes?
SG: That would be necessary, especially because of the strain diaphragmatic breathing places on the intercostal muscles. After Manon (the lead role in Massenet’s opera, for which Godarská won the Thalia Award), I’d love to go somewhere to get rehabilitated for the next performance—physically and mentally. But that’s just a dream for now.

JST: Can you imagine a situation where you receive an offer to perform Violetta in La Traviata at the Semperoper in Dresden, and the next day you get an offer to join the national cross-country team?
SG: I can imagine that very vividly. I can also imagine handling competitions right after performing Violetta. Sticking to singing alone doesn’t satisfy me. I’m constantly striving to explore the world of elite sports as well. My young body is built that way. For now, I don’t have to choose between one or the other. Besides, I’m used to challenges: I’ve had asthma since I was two, but I’ve never been told I breathe too much or can’t sustain legato. Sports give me courage—the more I work with my breath in both singing and athletics, the healthier my lungs stay.

We spoke with Soňa Godarská in the evening after she completed a fifty-kilometer cross-country ski training on the same trails used for the world competitions in Engadin and the famous long-distance race La Diagonela. “I had just come off a demanding concert tour in Žilina and needed to clear my head. If the journey isn’t challenging, it isn’t worth it. That applies equally in opera, in sports… and in life.”

This article is part of the seventh issue of the printed magazine Sport in Art. You can purchase the full issue HERE..