I was around 32 kilometres into the marathon.
By that point, I had already swum 3.8 kilometres in open water and ridden 180 kilometres on the bike. The race had been long, controlled, and, up until that moment, largely on plan. But somewhere between maintaining pace and managing energy, something shifted.
I hit the wall.
Not gradually, and not in a way that felt manageable. It was sudden, disorientating, and, most importantly, mental. Boom!
I reached the aid station and discovered they had run out of Coca-Cola. On the surface, that might sound trivial, but it was the one thing I had been mentally holding onto for the majority of the race. I had deliberately avoided caffeine earlier in the day, saving it for the final stretch of the marathon, knowing how demanding those last ten kilometres would be.
In that moment, the plan disappeared.
And with it, so did my composure.
I started walking. Not briefly, but for long enough to know something had broken. It took me the best part of one, perhaps two kilometres to gather myself, reset, and find a way to start running again. I finished the race, but the experience stayed with me; not because of the physical effort, but because of what it revealed.
What became clear afterwards is that I hadn’t hit the wall at 32 kilometres.
I had hit it much earlier.
Most likely on the bike, when I pushed harder than I should have, when I failed to fuel as effectively as I could have, and when I assumed that I could carry that level of output all the way through to the end. The moment in the marathon was not the cause; it was simply where the consequences became unavoidable.
In other words, the wall didn’t arrive unexpectedly.
I had built it.
This principle is well understood in performance science.
In The Making of a Corporate Athlete, published by Harvard Business Review, Loehr and Schwartz argue that sustained performance is not driven by time or effort alone, but by the effective management of energy; physical, emotional, and mental. When that balance is mismanaged, performance does not collapse immediately; it degrades over time before eventually failing under pressure.
That is exactly how the wall forms.
This is a pattern I have come to recognise far more often in leadership than in sport.
In endurance events, the concept of “the wall” is expected. Athletes plan for it, fuel for it, and respect the consequences of getting it wrong. Poor pacing or inadequate nutrition will almost inevitably surface later in the race.
In leadership, the same mechanism applies, but it is rarely acknowledged in the same way.
High performers do not suddenly burn out (I refer to this as erosion), nor do they typically experience a single defining moment where everything unravels. Instead, they operate at a sustained level of intensity that gradually becomes normalised. Standards rise, expectations tighten, and the pace of decision-making accelerates, often without any deliberate recalibration.
Research into executive performance has consistently shown that prolonged cognitive demand without recovery leads to reduced decision quality and increased mental fatigue, a pattern widely explored in both McKinsey & Company research on organisational health and in leadership analysis published by the Financial Times.
Over time, the signals begin to appear.
Decision-making becomes more effortful.
Clarity is harder to maintain.
Patience shortens.
And perhaps most tellingly, something more subtle begins to shift… what I often describe as a loss of humour. In endurance sport, we used to joke that when you hit the wall, you lose your sense of humour. Things that would normally feel light no longer do. The same is true in leadership. When that lightness disappears, it is rarely incidental; it is usually symptomatic.
At that point, the wall is no longer a future risk.
It is already forming.
Perfectionism plays a significant role in accelerating this process.
When the internal standard is continually set at “more”: more output, more control, more responsibility. There is no natural mechanism for recovery. The system becomes one-directional. Progress is measured by how much further you can push, rather than how effectively you can sustain performance over time.
I explored this dynamic in more detail in Perfectionism and the High Achiever’s Erosion, where the very traits that drive success begin to undermine it when left unchecked.
My own experience of this in leadership did not present itself as a dramatic failure.
I had been brought in to lead a failing business, at the time turning over approximately $6 million with a team of around 15 people. The opportunity was clear, and I approached it with the same mindset I had applied throughout my career, such as high standards, strong pace, and a relentless focus on improvement.
In the early stages, this approach worked.
Performance improved, the business stabilised, and over the following years we doubled both turnover and headcount. The organisation grew to approximately $12 million with a team of around 30 people.
From the outside, it looked like success.
And in many ways, it was.
What I had not fully accounted for, however, was the condition of the system I had stepped into.
The team were not starting from a position of energy and momentum. They were already fatigued, having experienced a prolonged period of underperformance and uncertainty. By overlaying my own pace and expectations onto that environment without first recalibrating, I created a gap that was difficult for others to sustain. I was trying to be perfect.
At the same time, the demands of the role began to extend beyond the business.
At home, the signs were more subtle but equally significant; reduced presence, shorter patience, and an increasing tendency to prioritise work over everything else. Like many leaders in similar situations, I framed this as necessary and temporary.
Until it became clear that it wasn’t.
There came a point where I could see the trajectory with uncomfortable clarity. I was at risk of losing not only the cohesion of the team, but also the stability of my family life.
There was no single moment of collapse.
But there was a very clear recognition.
That was the wall.
What makes this particularly challenging for high achievers is that the wall does not resemble failure.
It often looks like commitment, discipline, and ownership. All qualities that are typically rewarded and reinforced. The behaviours that lead to it are the same behaviours that have historically driven success.
This is why it is so often missed.
Without deliberate perspective, it is difficult to see the pattern forming. The proximity to the work, the pressure of responsibility, and the perceived expectations of others all contribute to maintaining the current pace… even when it is no longer sustainable.
I touched on the importance of stepping back to regain that perspective in Sunset in the Mara, where distance (both physical and mental) creates the conditions for clearer thinking.
Similarly, in The Spotlight Effect in Leadership, I explored how perceived visibility and scrutiny can drive leaders to maintain a level of intensity that exceeds what is actually required or sustainable.
Across all of these themes, the pattern is consistent.
The wall is not a sudden event.
It is the cumulative result of decisions made over time, and often rational in isolation, but collectively unsustainable.
This aligns closely with research on decision fatigue and cognitive overload, frequently explored in publications such as Forbes, where sustained high-pressure environments are shown to impair judgement long before performance visibly declines.
The implication is straightforward, but not always easy to act upon.
Sustained high performance is not simply a function of how hard you can push. It is a function of how well you can manage energy, maintain awareness, and adjust before the consequences become visible.
In endurance sport, this is understood as pacing and fuelling.
In leadership, it is less clearly defined, but no less critical.
The question, then, is not whether the wall exists.
It is whether you are recognising the signals early enough to avoid building it in the first place.
If this resonates, the first step is awareness. You can explore your own leadership clarity here: The Clarity Lens
References
- Harvard Business Review — The Making of a Corporate Athlete (Loehr & Schwartz)
- McKinsey & Company — The State of Organizations
- Financial Times — Leadership burnout and executive performance features
- Forbes — Decision fatigue and leadership performance
I’m Laurence Loxam – I’ve pushed limits in business, on mountains, and at the finish line.
Now I help elite professionals do the same, pushing past the point most people stop.
I coach CEOs, doctors, lawyers, and founders who’ve hit success, but still feel there’s more.
Together, we unlock clarity, sharpen confidence, and lead with conviction.
loxamconsultingltd.org
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