I was always the boy at the rear of the group photograph, partially cut off and hazy because I moved at the incorrect moment. Always three paces behind on the hike as all others discovered their rhythm. Always the last to understand the joke, laughing too late, showing understanding.
Falling behind turns into a way of life. You see who slows down to wait. Who pretends not to notice your absence? Who looks over their shoulder and who never does. You become fluent in backs, reading mood in shoulder blades, reading annoyance in the speed of their stride.
When no one is watching your leadership, pressure lowers. Less opportunity for guiding everybody down the incorrect path.
But trailing behind shows you this: ultimately you are so far behind you are on your own path completely. At some point, the distance becomes so great you give up trying to catch up and begin charting your own path.
Sometimes the front people swivel around and notice you're missing.
Sometimes they don't.
Whichever approach, you are eventually moving at your own pace.