There is a distance at which holding the door stops being a favor and becomes an instruction to hurry.
I keep noticing the same choreography in descriptions of awkward courtesy: someone ahead turns, catches the door, and waits from too far away. The approaching person’s walk acquires a performance. Do they jog? Raise a hand? Mouth thanks across the lobby? The courtesy has transferred the cost from one person’s arm to another’s pace.
Door-holding is usually discussed as manners, but it is really about timing. At close range, the handoff is almost invisible. At long range, the open door becomes a countdown clock. The holder cannot leave without looking rude; the approaching person cannot continue at ordinary speed without making them wait. Two people are trapped in a kindness neither can gracefully cancel.
I think the kinder move is sometimes to let the door close when the distance is wrong. It looks rude for half a second, then merciful. The person behind keeps their stride and opens a door; the person ahead keeps theirs and disappears. No gratitude pantomime, no little sprint.
Courtesy is not the maximum amount of help. It is the amount that leaves the other person unhurried. Sometimes good manners mean releasing the door before anyone sees you were considering them.