The Uncomfortable Math of Capacity Planning
Why your last quarter tells you more about your next one than any vision statement ever will
This week I’m closing out my Q4 12-week cycle. Not with celebration. With data.
Every 12 weeks I follow the same ritual: list everything I committed to, mark what got completed, examine the gap. No excuses. No adjustments for “unusual circumstances.” Just honest accounting.
The gap between planned and completed is the only reliable measure of capacity.
Most planning begins with aspiration. What do I want to accomplish? What should I prioritize? What would be impressive? Those questions skip the only one that matters: What can I reliably deliver?
I’ve watched leaders set ambitious quarterly goals with no connection to what they’ve proven they can execute. They plan as if this quarter will be different. More focused. Better organized. Fewer interruptions. It never is.
Your last quarter tells you more about your next quarter than any vision statement ever will. Track record beats intention. Always.
The uncomfortable part isn’t admitting what didn’t get done. That’s just data. The uncomfortable part is accepting that your completion rate represents your actual capacity, not some temporary constraint you’ll overcome next cycle.
Here’s what I’ve learned from tracking capacity across multiple cycles: it doesn’t vary as much as I thought it would. Some quarters I’m sharper. Some I have more space. Average it out, and there’s my reliable throughput.
Most people build plans assuming perfect conditions. Every hour available. No interruptions. Full energy. That’s not planning. That’s fiction.
Capacity planning means accounting for reality. Some days you’re off. Some weeks get disrupted. Some projects take longer than expected. The plan has to work within those constraints, not pretend they don’t exist.
My approach now: identify 2-3 goals for the 12-week cycle that actually move my 1-year, 3-5-year, and 10-year position forward. Then define what efforts are required to reach those goals. Not volume. Not throughput. What specific work needs to happen to close the gap between current state and goal state.
The answers are usually smaller and more focused than I want them to be. And that’s the point.
Once I know what must happen (and I’ve validated that the required effort fits within my proven capacity) then I can make real decisions. Do I stretch slightly beyond my baseline? Do I need to subtract something to make room?
This week’s review is forcing me to look at where my Q4 effort went. Some of it moved my main goals forward. Some felt productive but went nowhere. About 30% was misaligned. Not wasted, just pointed in directions that don’t compound toward what I have defined for my future self.
The tricky part is that misaligned work often feels productive. You’re shipping. Things are getting done. Boxes are checked. But the question isn’t whether you’re working hard. It’s whether the work is building toward the position you want.
Some of my misaligned effort was reactive. Responding to urgent requests that weren’t actually important. Some was legacy commitments I should have ended earlier. Some was just interesting work that didn’t connect to my main objective.
All defensible. None of it moved the needle.
The discipline isn’t doing more. It’s cutting what doesn’t matter so you have capacity for what does.
Most people add goals every cycle. Better approach: subtract what’s misaligned. Make room for what compounds.
Real planning doesn’t begin with what you want to accomplish. It begins with honest assessment of what you’ve proven you can do, clear identification of what actually moves your position forward, and disciplined subtraction of everything else.
Evidence first. Aspiration second. That’s the sequence that works.
This week I’m doing that math. Looking at Q4’s performance data. Identifying what moved me forward and what just kept me busy. Then planning Q1: 2-3 goals that build my long-term position, the specific efforts required to reach them, and clear decisions about what to cut to make room.
It’s uncomfortable work. But it’s the only way I’ve found to stop over-committing and start delivering.