The Confidence Gap

Experience Counts for Nothing When You've Lost Your Confidence

There's a particular kind of loneliness that comes with being the person everyone turns to for answers. You've built a career on competence. You've navigated complexity, led teams through uncertainty, delivered results under pressure. Your track record speaks for itself.

And yet.

Something has shifted. The confidence that once felt like a given now feels fragile. The gap between what you know you're capable of and how you're actually performing has become impossible to ignore. You find yourself second-guessing decisions that would have come naturally a year ago.

If this resonates, I want you to know something: losing confidence is not weakness. It's a signal. And understanding that signal is the first step back.

When Experience Stops Feeling Like Enough

I've been running seriously for twenty years. I'm a qualified run leader, the membership secretary at my local club, and I've completed more races than I can count – from ultra-marathons to triathlons. That's not a boast. It's context for what came next.

Nearly two years of injury have taken their toll. A pulled Achilles. A torn calf. Arthritis in my knee. Back damage from a cycling accident. For eighteen months, I haven't been able to run any meaningful distance.

Here's what I've learned: experience counts for nothing when you've lost your confidence. There's a brutal gap between innate capability and current performance. And that gap doesn't just affect what you can do – it affects how you see yourself.

I've felt exactly the same thing in my professional life.

The Moment of Choice

Last night, I took a deep breath, pulled on my cold weather kit, and led a group running session. I knew I couldn't keep up with them. I knew I couldn't do the distance. But I also knew that hiding wasn't helping.

So I adapted.

I set the group off doing two-mile tempo loops whilst I'd pre-mapped a one-mile version for myself. This meant I could continue to support them without putting myself in danger of further injury. It wasn't the session I would have led two years ago. But it worked.

I wish I'd had the space to adapt like that when I faced a similar crisis of confidence at work.

When the Environment Works Against You

A few years ago, I found myself in the wrong environment. I was under pressure to perform, and I'd had a couple of bad project outcomes. In some organisational cultures, your reputation is only as good as your last failure. Honestly, I was beginning to really doubt my own ability.

What I needed was the space to step back, think, and adjust. I needed the support of people around me. I needed a boss who asked open questions, one who didn't just criticise.

That's not what I got.

If you've been there – carrying the weight of expectations whilst questioning whether you can still deliver on them – you know how isolating it feels. You're supposed to be the one with answers. Admitting you're struggling feels like professional suicide.

Finding a Way Back

I felt lost, but I knew I had to take control back. I worked with a great coach. Together, we analysed what was really going on – not just the surface symptoms, but the underlying dynamics. We created a vision of a future that gave me energy rather than dread.

The route back wasn't about becoming someone different. It was about reconnecting with who I actually was – and finding an environment where that person could thrive.

What made the difference wasn't a framework or a five-step process. It was having someone who could walk alongside me. Someone who understood the pressure but could also see the potential. Someone who asked the questions I couldn't ask myself.

The Power of Running Alongside

What worked even better last night was that one of my friends sacrificed his session and ran that one-mile loop with me. He asked how I was. Encouraged me to keep going on my slow rehab. He doesn't know how much that meant to me.

That's the image I keep coming back to. Not someone ahead of you shouting instructions. Not someone behind you pushing. But someone alongside you, matching your pace, checking in, helping you find your own rhythm again. (Although he did surreptitiously increase the pace - yes I noticed!)

Doing the same for others is what's so rewarding for me these days. Creating a safe space for leaders to be vulnerable. To talk about where confidence has gone. And to build a route back.

The Question That Matters

If you're a senior leader carrying more than you're letting on – if you're accomplished and respected but quietly questioning what comes next – know that you're not alone. The doubt you're feeling isn't a sign of failure. It's a sign that something has changed, and you need space to work out what that means.

The question isn't whether you have what it takes. You do. The question is: who do you turn to when you need to have that honest conversation?

Because in those moments, what you need isn't someone with all the answers. It's someone willing to run alongside you until you find your own.

If you'd like to explore what that might look like, I'd welcome a conversation.