Over the last three years, The Beyond Recovery Project has had the privilege of seeing people do some pretty incredible things. We’ve climbed mountains together, walked long distances, travelled to some amazing places and taken on challenges that, for some people, once seemed completely out of reach. We are incredibly proud of those achievements, and rightly so. There is something very powerful about watching someone do something they once believed they couldn’t.
But recently, we’ve been thinking about something slightly different. What does success actually look like?
Is it reaching the summit? Is it completing the challenge, crossing the finish line or ticking something off the bucket list? Of course those things matter. A big challenge can provide focus, purpose and an enormous sense of achievement. It can rebuild confidence and show someone that they are capable of far more than they perhaps believed.
But when we’ve looked back over the journeys of the people we’ve supported, we’ve started to notice that some of the biggest changes often begin much earlier than the challenge itself.
They begin with the small things. Someone comes along to their first walk. They get outside, meet other people living with the impact of a brain tumour and perhaps realise they aren’t quite as alone as they thought. They come to a wellbeing weekend, have conversations they haven’t had anywhere else, try something new, or simply have a weekend where they don’t have to explain themselves. Gradually, confidence starts to build. They begin to have things in the diary to look forward to. They may start travelling independently again – where that’s possible, or simply begin making plans rather than waiting for the next appointment or scan.
And then, somewhere along the way, someone starts thinking, “Maybe I could actually do that.”
That’s where something really interesting happens. The challenges becomes possible.
The challenge is important, but it isn’t everything
We love a challenge. There is something really powerful about having a goal that initially feels slightly ridiculous and then watching yourself work towards it. Training gives you structure, there is a date in the diary, there are people alongside you and there is a shared purpose. Then, eventually, you do it.
For someone living with the impact of a brain tumour, that can be a huge moment. It can change how they see themselves and what they believe they are capable of.
But what happens afterwards?
The Monday morning after the challenge still arrives. The training stops, the countdown is over and suddenly the thing that has occupied so much of your time and energy isn’t there anymore. That doesn’t mean the challenge wasn’t worthwhile. Far from it. It means we’re becoming increasingly interested in what surrounds the challenge; what comes before it and, perhaps even more importantly, what comes afterwards.
The foundations matter
Think about a house. You don’t build the roof first because it’s the most impressive bit. The foundations aren’t particularly exciting and nobody takes a photograph of them and puts them on Instagram, but without them, the rest doesn’t have much to stand on.
We think recovery can be a bit like that.
The big challenge might be the thing everyone sees, but underneath it can be all the smaller things that have helped someone get there. Walking regularly, spending time outside, building friendships, feeling comfortable around other people again, having somewhere to go, finding a reason to leave the house, regaining some independence, starting to make plans and learning to trust yourself again.
Those things might not look dramatic from the outside, but they can be enormous.
And perhaps that is why the people who build those foundations can find that a challenge becomes part of a much bigger journey, rather than being the whole journey.
Nature and simply being outside
This is one of the reasons our walks matter so much to us. We’re not just putting one foot in front of the other. We’re getting people outside and away from hospitals, appointments, scan results and medical conversations.
There is something very different about walking alongside someone rather than sitting opposite them. Conversations happen naturally. You don’t have to fill every silence, and you can talk about the diagnosis if you want to, but you can also talk about absolutely anything else.
Sometimes that is very important.
For a while, life after a brain tumour diagnosis can become very medical. Scan dates, consultants, medication, symptoms, appointments and waiting can dominate everyday life. Walking in nature gives people an opportunity to simply be a person again. Not a patient. Not a diagnosis. Just someone out for a walk.
Independence matters too
There is another part of this that we’re becoming increasingly interested in – independence.
Not everyone needs to climb a mountain, and not everyone wants to. But being able to do something independently that you previously relied on someone else for can be a huge step forward. Travelling somewhere independently – where it is safe and appropriate to do so, going away for a weekend, getting on a bus or train, finding your way around somewhere unfamiliar, making your own plans and deciding what you want to do and actually doing it can all be significant milestones.
For some people, these things can be just as meaningful as a physical challenge. Sometimes they are the things that start to make life feel bigger again.
Watch and wait is part of this too
We also need to recognise that not everyone is in a traditional “recovery” phase. Some people are living with a brain tumour while on watch and wait or active surveillance. Treatment may be finished, or there may be no treatment to recover from and very few outward signs that anything is wrong, but there is still the uncertainty of the next scan, the next appointment and the possibility that things might change.
It can be very easy to put life on hold while waiting to find out what happens next.
For someone in that position, success might not mean completing a challenge at all. It might mean deciding to make plans three months ahead, booking a holiday, joining a walking group, making new friends or trying something they have been putting off. It might simply mean allowing themselves to look forward to something.
The diagnosis doesn’t disappear and the uncertainty doesn’t disappear, but perhaps life doesn’t have to stop because of it.
So what does success look like?
We don’t think there is one answer. For one person, it might be climbing a mountain. For another, it might be coming on their first walk after months of doing very little. It might be getting outside every week, travelling independently for the first time since their diagnosis, coming to a wellbeing weekend and realising they aren’t alone, making friends or getting back to something they used to love.
It might be taking on a challenge, and it might be coming back afterwards and continuing to walk with us.
That’s the bit we’re increasingly interested in. Not because completing a challenge isn’t successful. It absolutely is. But because we want the benefits of that challenge to carry into everyday life.
We want people to have something beyond the finish line – a community, a routine, people they can call or message, places they can go, things they can look forward to and perhaps, eventually, another challenge.
There is no hierarchy of achievement
There is no “small” achievement when it is something that matters to the person doing it. Someone else’s Himalaya trek might be your first two-mile walk. Someone else’s first walk might be the thing that feels impossible to you right now. Neither is more important.
This isn’t about constantly pushing people to do more. It’s about helping people discover what is possible for them. Sometimes the next step will be bigger, sometimes it will be smaller, sometimes it will be sideways, and sometimes there will be a period where the right thing is simply to stop and recover.
That’s life. Recovery isn’t a straight line.
What we’ve learned
If there is one thing the last three years have taught us, it’s that we don’t just want to create great challenges. We want to create the environment around those challenges that helps people grow.
We want the walks to matter. We want the time in nature to matter. We want the friendships to matter. We want the wellbeing weekends to matter. We want people to discover independence and confidence, and yes, we want people to dream big if that’s what they want to do.
Because perhaps the most powerful moment isn’t actually standing on the summit. It’s the moments before that, when someone looks at something they once thought was impossible and thinks, “Maybe I can.”
And then, after they’ve done it, we want them to come home and ask themselves another question.
Not, “What now that that’s over?”
But:
“What’s next?”
That’s why we’re coming back to three simple questions at The Beyond Recovery Project:
Where are you now?
What is still possible?
What’s next?
We don’t have all the answers, and we don’t think we need to. We just want to keep creating opportunities for people to find their own.
Because the challenge isn’t the destination.
It’s part of the journey.
The Beyond Recovery Project CIC 