Lloyd Gregory_Profile_Photo.jpgIt has now been a year since we published the JRO’s two-year strategy and implementation plan, so it feels timely to take stock and look at what has been achieved and what’s still left to accomplish. And while we can all be proud of what we have accomplished in the last year, looking at what’s left to do, it still feels like we’ve got a way to go to fully achieve what we set out to do. Since the publication of our strategy, a lot has happened and continues to happen that has refocused our organisations’ capacity to deliver our proposed workload. Over the last 6-9 months, the UK has seen a rapid and unanticipated scale of changes to the UK clinical trials regulatory landscape driven by the 2025 Clinical Trials Regulations, evolving MHRA/HRA guidance, and the UK Clinical Research Delivery (CRD) programme that has, or will come into effect, since the publication of the JRO Strategy. While these developments ultimately support the JRO’s longterm strategic aims, the scale and pace of change have required a diversion of organisational focus and resource, resulting in delays and delivery impacts across several JRO workstreams. This challenge is also amplified when you rely heavily on a workforce where your only currency is influence without authority.

As a card-carrying Completer-Finisher, this has naturally ‘rocked my world’, forcing me to step back and draw on past-experience as to how I personally manage and accept these realities.

Why is it that managing progress when there’s practically no capacity left is a strangely universal experience that no one talks about until they’re right in the middle of it, surrounded by deadlines and expectations?

Disclaimer: This blog isn’t going to be one of those polished productivity manifestos. It’s more a “let’s figure this out together before someone asks for another update” kind of piece. Nor am I saying that by doing all of this, your worries will instantly disappear, but they have helped me to contextualise and maybe even compartmentalise many of the issues.  

So, let’s dig into what it really means to keep perspective when the wheels are wobbling and the tank is near empty….

The First Step: Admit capacity is a real constraint and not a failure

For some reason, in professional settings, especially ones full of smart, capable people, why is it we treat lack of capacity as a flaw rather than an operational reality? But here’s the truth: you can’t squeeze a litre into a half‑litre bottle, no matter how motivated you are.

When the demand outweighs the capacity, something has to give. And acknowledging that early (even just internally) is the difference between strategic adaptation and total meltdown.

I’ve found it helpful to literally say to myself, “We cannot do everything, but we can choose what matters most.” It has helped me to know that the moment you stop pretending there is infinite bandwidth is the moment you gain back some control.

Re‑Anchor Yourself in the “Why”

When you’ve hit capacity, even the smallest tasks feel monumental. The trick is to zoom out.

Ask yourself:
What were the agreed outputs actually meant to achieve?

Not in their literal form, but in terms of impact.

Sometimes the report isn’t really about the report. It’s about assurance. Or progress. Or political visibility. Or unblocking another team.

When you reconnect with why something exists, you often discover:

  • a lighter version is perfectly acceptable,
  • a quick update buys the same value as a 20‑page document,
  • the original plan was potentially over‑engineered, anyway.

When capacity is tight, impact-driven compromises become your new best strategy. And often, no one even notices the difference.

Then… Have the courageous conversation

Ah yes, the part everyone dreads…. In my experience, senior stakeholders would much rather hear early that something can’t be delivered as planned than get a last‑minute crisis announcement. The magic words delivered calmly, without panic are:

“Given current capacity, here’s what we can deliver, and here’s what would need to shift if we want the full output.”

This does two things:

  1. It shows you’re still committed to progress.
  2. It hands the decision back to the people who own the priorities.

You’re not saying “no.” You’re saying “choose.” And that’s entirely reasonable.

 

Adopt the 80% Rule (Yes, really)

Here’s something else I’ve learnt over the last two decades that’s worth remembering in such situations, when there’s little capacity, the most dangerous thing you can do is cling to perfectionism. The 80% rule says:

When the output is good enough that it meets the purpose, stop.

The energy cost of the last 20% of polish is usually enormous. And more often than not, the audience find it difficult to tell the difference.

Delivering something that’s 80% polished but on time is almost always better than delivering a perfect masterpiece three weeks late, especially when you’re operating on fumes.

Verbalise progress even the small bits

This sounds strange, but people feel reassured when they hear movement.

You don’t have to show monumental leaps. You can say:

  • “We’ve drafted the core structure.”
  • “We’ve clarified the key assumptions.”
  • “The data is assembled; synthesis is next.”

When capacity is limited, narrating your progress buys breathing space. It also signals that you’re organised, have a plan and are in control, even if behind the scenes you feel like you’re juggling chainsaws on a trampoline!!

Celebrate the wins (Yes, even the smallest ones)

  • Did you make a decision that unblocked something? That counts.
  • Did you send the email you’d been avoiding? That counts.
  • Did you clarify scope in a way that saved ‘future you’ from suffering? That absolutely counts!!

When capacity is tight, celebrations become fuel. They remind you that you’re still achieving, even under tough conditions.

Final Thought: Progress isn’t always glamorous, but it’s always valuable

Managing progress when there is limited capacity isn’t about heroics. It’s about strategy, honesty, prioritisation, and gentle realism. It’s about moving forward in whatever way is possible, rather than in the perfect way you originally imagined.