Forty-three percent. That is roughly what a broad index returned in the thirty-six months after March 2020. Most retail investors captured almost none of it, because they had already left.
Compounding is not a rate. It is a duration, and every exit shortens it. The mathematics here are unforgiving in a specific way: the largest single-day gains in any decade tend to cluster inside the worst stretches, so the person who leaves to avoid pain is also the person who misses the recovery that immediately follows. Miss the ten best days in a twenty-year period and you can halve your final number. The enemy is not a bad pick or a bad year. The enemy is the gap between getting out and getting back in, because that gap is almost always filled with waiting for certainty that never comes.
Compounding is not a rate. It is a duration, and every exit shortens it.
Jack Bogle spent decades pointing at this exact problem. Index funds were not his argument for diversification — they were his argument against activity, against the chronic human urge to do something when markets fall. His core finding was simple and brutal: the average investor's return trails the average fund's return because investors keep entering and exiting at the wrong moments. The fund compounds. The investor interrupts.
Here is where this actually lives for most people: the market drops eight percent over a few weeks, and the balance notification appears on a phone screen, probably late at night when nothing useful can be done. The number feels like a verdict. The instinct is to stop the bleeding, to sell and wait until things feel stable again. The portfolio app is open in under thirty seconds, and the position that took four years to build gets unwound in one motion. Leticia Varga did exactly this in her late thirties, exited during a rough quarter, and spent fourteen months in cash while the index recovered and then surpassed its previous high. She re-entered feeling prudent. She had lost something she could not see on any statement: fourteen months of compounding she would never get back.
The account does not care how you felt when you left. It only counts the days you were in it.