Finishing Matters - The Discipline of Closure

Nearly there, isn't there !! 

When you watch people running in a race, you’ll often see them slow down just before they get to the finish line. Elite athletes train to overcome this natural tendency, but there have been many instances of people losing the race simply because they finished too early - or thought they had. We cringe because we could see that the line was right there… but not here.

What we do in those last few metres matters - whether in running, in work, or in leadership.

Most of us are familiar with the Lao Tzu saying, "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step". But the Lao Tzu verse also goes on to say: "People often fail at the point of success, by giving up at the end".

It is a very human thing: we start well, make progress, get close to completion… and then ease off just a little too soon.  This is closure - the art of crossing the line properly, not almost.  And it is more difficult than you'd imagine - and for some very curious reasons.

Where this shows up in everyday work

This pattern appears everywhere in organisational - and personal - life:

• emails drafted but not sent
• decisions made but never communicated
• meetings held but no follow-through
• initiatives 90% complete that stay 90% complete for 90% of the time (the 90 / 90 rule)
• good ideas that almost happen
• handovers done 'in passing'
• conversations that stop at the polite surface

Often, nothing catastrophic happens, but things are left slightly open, slightly ambiguous, slightly unfinished. And over time, that ambiguity compounds.

Why we stop too early

We can only really do something about this if we understand the reasons for it. And it's certainly not laziness or poor discipline; but something far more interesting, and more innately human than that.

•  The brain loves the feeling of being 'nearly there'.   As we approach completion, we see the end is in sight and the brain gives us a small surge of dopamine. It’s a reward signal, and ironically - and unhelpfully - it arrives before we’ve actually finished. But then the high wears off and we relax, ease off, and slow down too soon. Elite athletes are trained to override this effect; however, for most of us, the early reward feels natural, even deserved.
• Anticipatory completion - the mind finishes before we do.   This happens in our imaginations. When we see the finish line approaching, our brains do something clever but also unhelpful: we pre-experience the feeling of being done. In our mind's eye, we cross the line before our feet do. The task still needs effort, but the mind has already moved on. It’s the same mechanism that makes strategic visioning powerful; the brain can’t perfectly distinguish between imagination and reality. Except here, that mechanism works against us; imagining the end tricks us into believing we’re already there.
• The dopamine trap - we reward resolution, not completion.  Solid actions feel good: starting something, deciding something, solving something, or announcing something.  Doing these things are all rewarded with a dopamine shot.  However, finishing is often quiet, administrative, and methodical; the least glamorous part of any piece of work. The brain doesn’t reward finishing, or the anticipation of completion, in the same way it rewards starting or deciding. So once that initial rush subsides, urgency evaporates. We haven’t lost interest; we’ve simply lost the chemical encouragement that made the beginning, and some bits along the way, feel so compelling.  
• The 'good enough' drift.   This isn’t the drift of losing direction, but lowering standards against our original expectations. It happens as something is almost ready, a conversation was nearly honest, or a process is close enough. We’re tired, overloaded, or juggling too many priorities, and so 'nearly done' feels almost as good as 'done'. And so we accept it. Just this once. Except it’s rarely just once.
• Competing attention.   As soon as something new grabs our attention - a fresh priority, a louder problem, something shinier - anything that give an easier dopamine hit, then the thing we were almost finished with loses energy and momentum.
• The last 10% exposes the real issues.   Those final steps are where you find the gaps, the contradictions, the missing data, the awkward follow-ups. We know the accumulated imperfections are there just waiting to come together in those final moments - and we know the reality won't be what we originally envisioned.   Stopping early protects us from that mental discomfort; but at a cost.

Finishing well is a leadership discipline

Closure isn’t about brute effort, it’s about sustaining attention long enough to land the thing properly.  And getting yourself and your team through the closing phase requires good leadership:

• make sure decisions are actually communicated
• complete conversations that need completing
• push work right over the line, don't park near it
• don’t let 'almost' stand in for 'done'
• ensure handovers are real, not symbolic
• create rituals and rhythms that make closure a habit
• model the last 5% with the same care as the first 50%

Closing things properly builds trust, because people learn that what you say will happen, does happen.  And it's where most of the value is actually delivered.

A final thought ...

There’s nothing wrong with easing off after the finish line.  In fact, that’s good to do - it’s where we recover, reset, review, and learn.

But slowing before the line - imagining the job's done when there’s still a little way to go - is where so much organisational friction lives.  It wastes effort already invested, confuses teams, blurs intent, and leaves lingering ambiguity.

While the journey begins with a single step, it ends only when the last step is taken - with purpose. And in leadership, the last few metres matter more than the first few.

Ad Futurum

Graham