Resilience!

When Life Changes the Rules: Resilience, Wheelchairs, Gold Medals and Finding Another Way Forward

Three extraordinary young people, one eye-opening morning on wheels, and a reminder that sometimes the biggest barriers aren’t in our bodies at all.

By Serena Taylor | Founder of The Serenity Reset Method™

Have you ever attended a conference expecting to come away with a few useful ideas, perhaps some new contacts and a notebook full of scribbles, only to leave questioning the way we think about disability, resilience, recovery and what it really means to include everyone?

That was me on Tuesday 20th October at the Disability Sport Wales Dylanwadu Conference in Aberystwyth.

And somewhere between attempting wheelchair sports, listening to three remarkable young people and reflecting on my own journey through fibromyalgia and burnout, I realised something.

Sometimes life doesn’t just move the goalposts. It takes away the pitch, changes the rules and hands you a completely different ball.

The question then becomes: what do we do next?

A Morning on Wheels — and a Rather Large Slice of Humble Pie

I was delighted to be one of the representatives from sports clubs, fitness and wellbeing organisations invited to attend the conference, exploring how we can make physical activity more accessible to people from all backgrounds and abilities.

As a yoga teacher, breathwork specialist and former schoolteacher, inclusion has always been important to me.

But there’s a difference between understanding inclusion intellectually and experiencing, even briefly, some of the practical challenges involved.

And the morning certainly gave me something to think about!

We were invited to experience wheelchair sports, including using specialist sports wheelchairs.

Now, I’m quite comfortable balancing on my hands, twisting myself into unusual yoga positions and occasionally persuading my body to do things that look suspiciously like circus tricks.

But put me in a sports wheelchair and suddenly I was learning an entirely different language of movement.

Forget downward-facing dog. I was concentrating on coordinating my arms, turning the chair and working out how to manoeuvre without looking like I’d taken a wrong turn at the supermarket.

And those sports wheelchairs are quite something!

They’re designed for agility, speed and movement, and require skills that don’t magically appear just because you’re reasonably fit.

I quickly discovered that my usual physical abilities didn’t automatically translate into competence on wheels.

My arms had quite a workout, and my brain was working just as hard trying to coordinate everything.

It was humbling, fascinating and enormous fun.

But the experience also carried an important lesson.

Being physically fit doesn’t mean you’re automatically capable in every environment. And having a disability doesn’t mean someone is incapable of being an extraordinary athlete.

It’s about skills, opportunities, adaptations, access and the right support.

Of course, spending a morning using a wheelchair cannot possibly tell me what it feels like to live as a wheelchair user.

It doesn’t recreate the daily challenges of inaccessible buildings, unsuitable facilities, transport difficulties or the assumptions people make about disability.

But it did help me appreciate some of the different physical demands involved in wheelchair sport.

More importantly, it encouraged me to ask better questions.

As fitness and wellbeing providers, are we genuinely making our activities accessible?

Or are we simply opening the doors and hoping everyone can somehow find their own way in?

Because there’s a rather significant difference.

Inclusion isn’t just about having a seat at the table. It’s about making sure the table is accessible, everyone has a voice, and nobody has to perform an obstacle course just to get there.

And after that morning, I was ready to listen.

Mia Lloyd: When Life Takes Away the Legs You Expected to Run On

One of the young people whose story particularly moved me was Mia Lloyd, a Welsh athlete from Cardigan who lost her leg following a diagnosis of bone cancer as a child.

Imagine being a young girl who loves sport, movement and running, only to find yourself facing a life-threatening illness and the possibility of losing your leg.

Mia was diagnosed with osteosarcoma, a rare form of bone cancer, and underwent chemotherapy and an above-knee amputation.

What struck me most was her determination to find a way back to the activities she loved.

When faced with an enormous medical decision, she was thinking about whether she would be able to run again.

Sport wasn’t simply something she did.

It was part of who she was.

Following her treatment, Mia learned to use a prosthetic leg and explored different sporting opportunities, including athletics and wheelchair basketball.

She went on to receive the Inspiring Person Award at the 2019 Wales Sport Awards.

But it wasn’t the award that stayed with me.

It was the courage involved in navigating such an enormous change at such a young age.

Her body had changed. Her circumstances had changed. The way she moved had changed.

But her love of movement remained.

Sometimes resilience isn’t about getting back to where you were. It’s about finding a new route to somewhere meaningful.

And listening to Mia made me think about something I know all too well.

What happens when the body you’ve always relied upon suddenly stops behaving as you expect?

Archie Morton: From Kidney Failure to Gold in Germany

Then there was Archie Morton, a young man from Llandrindod Wells whose story was equally remarkable.

Archie was born with serious kidney problems. As his kidney function deteriorated, his health suffered enormously.

He described being so exhausted that everyday life became a struggle.

Eventually, in December 2021, his father Adam donated one of his kidneys to him.

Now, as parents, we often say we’d give anything for our children.

Archie’s father quite literally gave him a kidney.

And that gift opened the door to a future neither of them could have fully imagined.

Following his transplant and recovery, Archie began rebuilding his strength.

About a year later, he had a casual game of badminton with his dad.

He hadn’t previously been a regular badminton player. It was something new that developed during his recovery.

And what began with a simple game between father and son became something extraordinary.

In 2025, Archie travelled to Dresden, Germany, where he won gold in junior singles badminton at the World Transplant Games.

From struggling to get out of bed to standing on an international sporting podium.

Not bad for something that started with a knockabout with Dad!

What struck me was that Archie didn’t begin with a grand plan to become a world champion.

He began with an opportunity.

Something enjoyable.

Something that helped him reconnect with movement and other people.

His medical treatment made his recovery possible, and his sporting journey developed from there.

And that made me think about the people I work with who are living with chronic pain, fatigue or burnout.

When your energy is so limited that getting through the day feels like climbing Everest in flip-flops, the idea of achieving something significant can seem utterly impossible.

But perhaps the first step doesn’t need to look impressive.

Perhaps it begins with finding something that brings a little enjoyment back into life.

For Archie, it was badminton.

For someone else, it might be gentle movement, reconnecting with friends or simply having enough energy to enjoy a favourite activity.

We don’t always know where those beginnings might lead.

Sometimes a new chapter begins with something as ordinary as picking up a badminton racquet.

Nathan de Vaux: What If the Problem Isn’t You?

Another young man who left a lasting impression was Nathan de Vaux, a neurodivergent downhill mountain biker from Machynlleth.

Nathan is autistic and has ADHD and dyslexia.

Alongside his younger brother Ruben, he has helped develop the Trailrippers Project, which aims to make mountain biking more inclusive and accessible.

I loved his story because it challenges the way society often approaches difference.

We spend an enormous amount of time trying to make people fit into systems that weren’t designed with them in mind.

In schools, workplaces, sports clubs and even healthcare, we sometimes expect everyone to learn, move, communicate and cope in the same way.

And when someone struggles?

Too often, we assume the problem lies with them.

But what if the problem is the environment?

What if the rules need changing?

What if we stopped asking people to squeeze themselves into boxes that don’t fit and started redesigning the boxes?

Actually, perhaps we could just get rid of a few boxes altogether.

Nathan and his brother recognised barriers within the sport they loved and set about creating opportunities for others.

Rather than expecting everyone to adapt to the existing system, they are helping make the system more inclusive.

And that is a lesson that extends far beyond mountain biking.

Difference doesn’t automatically mean inability. Sometimes it simply means a different route is needed.

Then I Thought About My Own Journey Through Fibromyalgia and Burnout

As I listened to these three young people, I found myself reflecting on a very different kind of adversity.

There was a time when fibromyalgia, chronic pain, exhaustion and burnout had taken over my life.

I know what it feels like to wake up exhausted before the day has even begun.

To experience pain that nobody else can see.

To struggle with activities that once seemed effortless.

To wonder whether the life you knew has disappeared for good.

And one of the hardest parts isn’t always the physical pain.

It’s losing confidence in your own body.

You stop trusting what it can do.

You begin anticipating the pain, the fatigue and the consequences of doing too much.

Your world can gradually become smaller.

I used to think that if I could just push a little harder, try a little more or find enough determination, I could somehow force my way back to health.

But the body doesn’t always respond particularly well to being treated like a stubborn employee who just needs a motivational speech.

Mine certainly didn’t.

I had to stop fighting my body and start listening to it.

I began exploring the relationship between breathing, movement, stress, recovery and the nervous system.

I learned to recognise when I was overwhelmed.

I learned that rest wasn’t weakness.

That slowing down didn’t mean giving up.

And that respecting my limits wasn’t the same as surrendering to them.

Over time, my own health and capacity improved enormously.

Today, I teach yoga, practise challenging movements and arm balances, run Serenity Studio, write books and deliver workplace wellbeing programmes.

But I haven’t forgotten what it felt like when those things seemed impossible.

And that is why these young people’s stories resonated with me so deeply.

Their experiences were not the same as mine, and our paths to better health cannot be compared directly.

But they reminded me that adversity can change our direction without necessarily removing every possibility ahead.

Resilience Isn’t About Having an Indestructible Battery

Something I talk about frequently in my work is capacity.

We all have a certain amount of physical, mental and emotional energy available to us.

I sometimes think of it as a battery.

Some mornings, we wake up feeling fully charged.

Other mornings, particularly when living with chronic illness or burnout, we might feel as though someone forgot to plug us in overnight.

And then life starts opening apps in the background.

Work.

Children.

Responsibilities.

Worries.

Pain.

Poor sleep.

Financial pressures.

Before we’ve even had breakfast, we’re down to 12%, and somebody is asking us to download another update!

The trouble is that society often expects everyone to operate on the same battery level.

We assume that because one person can manage a particular workload, activity or challenge, everyone else should be able to do the same.

But our capacities are different.

Our recovery needs are different.

And the demands placed upon us are different.

Resilience isn’t about pretending your battery never runs low. It’s about recognising what drains it, what helps replenish it and how to use the energy you have wisely.

For someone recovering from burnout, that might mean reducing unnecessary demands, improving sleep, seeking support and gradually rebuilding confidence.

For someone with fibromyalgia, it may involve pacing, symptom management, appropriate movement and learning to recognise what aggravates their condition.

For people with ME/CFS or post-exertional malaise, pushing beyond energy limits can cause significant deterioration, so protecting capacity and avoiding symptom exacerbation is essential.

There is no universal formula.

But there is an important principle.

You cannot build sustainable resilience by repeatedly demanding more from a system that is already overwhelmed.

Sometimes you need to reduce the load before you can begin rebuilding.

The Nervous System: Learning When to Challenge and When to Recover

One of the central ideas behind my Serenity Reset Method™ is understanding the relationship between stress, nervous system regulation and our capacity to cope.

When we’re exposed to prolonged stress, the physiological demands on our bodies can accumulate.

Sleep may deteriorate.

Muscles become tense.

Concentration suffers.

Fatigue increases.

And chronic pain can become more difficult to manage.

Our nervous systems are constantly responding to information from both inside and outside our bodies.

When we’re overwhelmed, even relatively ordinary challenges can begin to feel enormous.

This is why I place so much importance on breathwork, mindfulness, appropriate movement, deep rest and understanding our individual stress responses.

But there’s another part to resilience that I think is equally important.

It’s not simply about learning to calm ourselves.

It’s about learning how to respond to life’s challenges without repeatedly overwhelming our capacity.

For people whose health allows it, that may involve manageable challenges followed by sufficient recovery.

Not pushing until we collapse.

Not ignoring warning signs.

But gradually exploring what we’re capable of, while paying attention to how our bodies respond.

If a challenge is tolerated well, confidence and capacity may develop over time.

If it causes significant or prolonged symptom deterioration, we need to reconsider the approach.

For some conditions, particularly those involving post-exertional malaise, increasing activity can be harmful, and careful pacing is essential.

The aim isn’t to prove how much discomfort we can tolerate.

It’s to create the conditions in which our bodies and minds can function as well as possible.

Breathwork, yoga and relaxation aren’t cures for complex chronic illnesses, but they can be useful tools for supporting wellbeing and managing stress.

And perhaps one of the most important skills is learning to recognise when we need to challenge ourselves and when we need to recover.

Resilience isn’t a competition to see who can endure the most.

Inclusion: It’s Not Enough to Say Everyone Is Welcome

This brings me back to my morning in the sports wheelchair.

Because while I was busy discovering muscles in my arms that apparently hadn’t received the memo about being fit, I was also thinking about the people who attend my yoga classes.

People living with chronic pain.

People with mobility limitations.

People experiencing burnout.

People who are neurodivergent.

People who are pregnant.

People who haven’t exercised for years.

People who are frightened that movement might hurt.

And people who simply don’t feel comfortable walking into a traditional fitness environment.

It’s easy to say, “Everyone is welcome.”

But what does that actually mean?

Can someone participate from a chair?

Can a person with limited mobility access the building and facilities?

Can activities be adapted without making somebody feel singled out?

Are instructions clear and accessible?

Can someone take a break without feeling they’re holding everyone else up?

Is there an option for people who find busy, noisy environments overwhelming?

Are we creating opportunities for participation, or unintentionally putting up barriers?

And perhaps most importantly, are we asking people what they need rather than assuming we already know?

Because inclusion isn’t simply a statement on a website.

It’s something we demonstrate through the choices we make.

At Serenity Studio, I already adapt classes for different abilities, offer chair yoga and provide online options.

But the conference encouraged me to think more deeply about what else I can do.

And that’s the beauty of continuing to learn.

Even when you’ve spent years teaching, there’s always another perspective that can change how you see things.

What If We Applied the Same Thinking to Workplaces?

As someone who now works with organisations on burnout prevention, I couldn’t help connecting these lessons to the workplace.

We often talk about resilience training as though the solution to workplace stress is simply to make employees better at coping.

Teach them breathing exercises.

Encourage mindfulness.

Offer a wellbeing day.

Perhaps put a fruit bowl in the staffroom for good measure.

And then send everyone straight back into the same environment that contributed to their exhaustion.

But Nathan’s story highlights something crucial.

Sometimes it’s the environment that needs to change.

If workloads are consistently unrealistic, staffing levels are inadequate or employees don’t feel psychologically safe, breathing exercises alone won’t solve the problem.

Individual wellbeing tools have value, but they need to sit alongside meaningful organisational change.

And just as Mia found ways to continue participating in sport after her body changed, workplaces may need to become more flexible in how they support people with different capacities.

Just as Archie benefited from appropriate medical treatment, recovery time and supportive opportunities, employees returning after burnout may need an individualised, gradual return rather than an expectation that they can immediately perform as before.

Burnout prevention isn’t simply about teaching people to cope with more.

It’s about recognising when the demands being placed upon them exceed the resources available and doing something about it.

That might involve reducing unnecessary pressure, improving communication, making reasonable adjustments, supporting managers or creating healthier working environments.

We cannot keep asking people to become more resilient while refusing to address the conditions that are exhausting them.

Three Young People. Three Different Challenges. One Powerful Message.

Mia reminded me that when our bodies change, our relationship with movement can change too.

Archie reminded me that a period of profound illness doesn’t necessarily define the rest of our lives, and that extraordinary opportunities can emerge from the simplest beginnings.

Nathan reminded me that sometimes overcoming adversity means challenging the barriers around us rather than changing who we are.

And my morning in a sports wheelchair reminded me that being capable in one environment doesn’t automatically make us capable in another.

Sometimes we need new skills.

Sometimes we need different equipment.

Sometimes we need support.

And sometimes we need somebody to stop insisting that there’s only one correct way to do something.

The goal isn’t to make everyone the same. It’s to create a world where differences don’t automatically become barriers.

Your Story Doesn’t Have to End Where the Difficulty Begins

I left Aberystwyth feeling inspired, challenged and grateful.

Grateful to the young people who shared their experiences.

Grateful to Disability Sport Wales for creating opportunities to learn.

And grateful for the reminder that there is always more we can do to make movement, sport and wellbeing accessible.

As a former teacher, I think about children whose abilities might be overlooked because they learn differently.

As a yoga teacher, I think about people who believe yoga isn’t for them because of their age, disability or health.

As someone who has experienced fibromyalgia and burnout, I think about those who are quietly struggling with challenges nobody else can see.

And as someone working with organisations to prevent burnout, I think about how much difference we could make if we stopped expecting everyone to cope in exactly the same way.

Sometimes the most powerful question isn’t:

Why can’t this person do what everyone else can?

But rather:

What can we change so this person has the opportunity to thrive?

And if you’re reading this while facing your own adversity, whether that’s chronic pain, exhaustion, disability, burnout or circumstances that have turned your life upside down, I’d like to leave you with one thought.

You don’t have to become a Paralympian.

You don’t have to win a gold medal.

You don’t have to prove your strength to anybody.

Maybe today your achievement is simply getting out of bed.

Maybe it’s recognising that you need rest.

Maybe it’s asking for help.

Maybe it’s discovering a different way to do something you love.

Or maybe it’s finding a new passion that you never would have considered before.

All of those achievements matter.

Because resilience isn’t always about bouncing back to the person you used to be. Sometimes it’s about discovering what is possible with the body, circumstances and opportunities you have now.

And sometimes the most extraordinary journeys begin with the smallest steps.

Or, in my case, a slightly wobbly attempt to navigate a sports wheelchair without making a complete spectacle of myself!

Thank you to Disability Sport Wales, Mia Lloyd, Archie Morton and Nathan de Vaux for an unforgettable day.

I came away with plenty to think about, a greater appreciation of inclusive sport and a renewed determination to make my own work as accessible as possible.

Because everyone deserves the opportunity to move, participate, belong and thrive.

And surely that’s a goal worth working towards.

About the Author

Serena Taylor is the founder of The Serenity Reset Method™, author of The Serenity Reset, and a yoga, breathwork and nervous system wellbeing specialist.

Drawing on her personal experience of fibromyalgia and burnout, alongside her professional training, Serena supports individuals and organisations with stress management, burnout prevention, recovery-focused wellbeing and practical tools for navigating life’s challenges.

Through Serenity Studio in Knighton and her corporate wellbeing programmes, she helps people develop a greater understanding of their bodies, their stress responses and the importance of balancing challenge with recovery.

The Serenity Reset: https://theserenityreset.co.uk

Serenity Studio: 4 High Street, Knighton

Telephone: 07754 604373