Tyler LeGear
I am a father. I am a son. I am a brother. I am a physiotherapist, an entrepreneur. I am an educator, a teacher. I am many other things, too, and recognize that each and every one of us is a dynamic, complex being that is at once ever-changing but holds core values that help form who we are and who we want to be. I approach my world every day trying to appreciate the unique qualities we all have while also recognizing the human potential for the incredible. With that in mind, let me share a little bit about my story and why I am so passionate about what I do.
I did not know what I wanted to do when I "grew up." Quite the opposite. There was clear direction from my parents to pursue a post-secondary education; this direction, while vague, was important. I was driven, at the very least, to reach this goal. For as long as I can remember, it was part of my identity. If anyone asked, I would answer with utmost confidence that I would go to university.
This mindset did not come without its flaws. Beyond that basic identity, I did not do much to further myself. I had the benefit of parents who appreciated the outdoors and being active, with hiking and walking being a staple of my daily life growing up in the Cowichan Valley. Other than that, though, much of my leisure time was soaked up by video games. This--as with most things--had its benefits. I did not get drawn into the "crowd" and was content enough being a pariah. I was largely under the radar with minimal peer pressures. And often drawn to the story-telling side of games, I was repeatedly exposed to the timeless stories of "good vs. evil" and the classic underdog tale, factors that would play a surprisingly major role as I developed a clearer sense of self.
I hit a major roadblock when I applied to the University of Victoria. In an interesting turn of events, the requirements to get in increased from the low 70s to the low 80s. "Knowing" that the requirements were so low, I coasted in my final year. When all was said and done, I had finished the year, written my provincial examinations and was 1 percentage point short. I didn't get in.
This was an important moment as it completely sabotaged my image of "me." At the time, I looked at it in shock and awe (and inwardly recognizing it was no one's fault but my own) and concluded I could do two things:
Start the application for Camosun College (this seemed like a travesty at the time as "University" was an important part of my perspective)
Write an appeal letter to argue why I should be admitted to the University of Victoria.
I wrote the letter. And with passion I argued that “percentage points” are insignificant in the grand scheme of life and that by looking strictly at numbers the “individual” is lost. It must have been somewhat convincing: the appeal worked and I was accepted.
I approached university as a new lease on life. A fresh start and an opportunity to form a new identity for myself. One problem, though. Wherever I went, there I was.
I was still the socially insecure teen without any real direction. I knew I wasn't the person I wanted to be, but I wasn't sure how to get there either. My studies were a hodge-podge of just about anything, barring math and science (courses I swore off of back when I was a wise sixteen-year old). I studied everything from linguistics to psychology, poetry to philosophy.
During this time, I experimented with what "normal" people would do. I signed up for the university gym and participated in various intramural sports. This "normal" stuff was absurdly difficult as I consistently overanalyzed the social situations and found myself constantly stuck within my head or outside of myself (and looking down at my physical self thinking, "it sure sounded a lot better in my head."). My "physical self" was in stark contrast to what I might call my "spiritual (or internal) self," who was strong, courageous, and witty.
Like anything else worthwhile, this personal development stuff was going to take some work. And I needed A LOT of practice if I was going to be able to act in accordance with my internal self and start being the person I knew I could be. Without true direction in my studies, I opted to enroll in the Elementary Education Program: a 5-year Bachelor's program that would set me up to be an Elementary school teacher. A teacher seemed to be a suitable profession: I enjoyed working with children, it paid well enough, and had excellent holidays to boot. Most importantly, though, the schooling provided me with the social training I needed, with a heavy emphasis on oral presentations and socialization in general.
Like water crashing over a rough surface time and time again, things did begin to change. About one year into the process I realized something else, too. If I were to become my “ideal self” I needed to improve physically as well as socially. To be fair, I was always lean and had a decent base level of fitness, but I felt like it wasn’t enough and I wasn’t living up to my own expectations. Again, I identified a mismatch on what I was and what I ought to be.
Fortunately, my studies were of little challenge, so I was able to dedicate a lot of my "free time" to training. This training was doubly effective because my brother, Mark, was going through a similar transformation and we were able to keep ourselves accountable and push ourselves further and further along. This new version of self became an important part of my identity and naturally excused me from many of the social pressures of my peers. Excessive drinking, for instance, did not match the effort that I put into my health and wellness, and people were quick to accept this reasoning. Before long, "Temple" became a nickname as it was seen that I treated my body like a spiritual temple.
As my "self" continued to form, my social circle began to expand. This is when I met Zoe, someone who would end up polishing my character and provide meaning in ways that I, at the time, didn't know existed. While I was improving, I was by no means a smooth operator. And my success in the relationship department: non-existent. I did have something going for me, though: I was persistent. But there is more to it. Every now and again we have that internal voice that tells us something. Something important. Sometimes it gets so loud it simply cannot be ignored. That's what happened. It is one of those cases where someone might use the word, “love.”
But there it was: an opportunity to change my life forever. A happily ever after scenario so fitting for the “hero’s journey.” I was not going to let opportunity slip away, or have the regret of a love lost (that was never pursued). And pursue I did. I played the game without knowing any of the rules. I ended up in what can best be summed up as the "friend zone." While I didn't fully understand the rules of engagement, I knew I didn't want to be there. So what did I do?
I built up all the courage I could and essentially asked if she wanted to be more than friends (just imagine a boy in his early 20s with no experience talking to women: it was that smooth). While I was patting myself on the back for taking this huge leap, she delivered a near-mortal wound: "No."
Ouch.
All the cliches like "love hurts" came into fruition and I needed to recompose myself and decide what this meant. Fate and destiny are strong terms but somehow these were the words that continued to bombard my mind and allowed me to process the situation. If it was meant to be, it was meant to be. I would not find myself living a life of regrets.
I gritted my teeth and put my pride aside. I valued Zoe as a person in my life and abandoning that because I didn't get the outcome I wanted would be self-centered and against my rational nature and against my true self. I continued to be the best friend I could be while continuing to develop myself. Importantly, Zoe had a son, Owen, from her previous relationship and my role in his life became increasingly important.
I’m not sure how it happened exactly. It was a collection of small events, shared experience, and like-mindedness. But, over time, that “no” did become a “yes” and we seamlessly transitioned into what could be called a "family."
My professional development began to change and my aspirations shifted. I was still completing my Education degree but during this period I also pursued certifications on health and wellness in my free time. I recognized that health and wellness were a very critical part of my own identity and my schooling didn't fill that void.
Before long, I finished my degree knowing I didn't want to be a teacher. I needed to decide where to go next and weighed several options. I met with faculty members from the kinesiology department at UVic and explored opportunities to pursue a Master’s degree in Kinesiology. This would lead to a research-based career and, while interesting, would be disconnected from individuals and limit my overall impact in helping others reach their potential.
Next, I considered pursuing medicine. As a medical doctor, I would find myself in a unique position to connect with families (over the long term) and have a notable impact on individuals' lives. However, there were two factors that dissuaded me. First, work-life balance would be compromised; I was concerned about my ability to be able to be the support I wanted to be for my own family. Secondly, at the time, I felt that the medical system was “reactive” rather than “preventative” (i.e. addressing problems when they have to be addressed rather than preventing them in the first place).
Lastly, I came across physiotherapy. Not of my own volition either. I never had exposure to physiotherapy growing up: it wasn't on my radar at all. My brother, Mark, who was exploring his options, opted to pursue physiotherapy. He had a mixed history of studies (but largely science-based) and was finishing up his kinesiology degree after opting against biology and geography. It piqued my interest.
Physiotherapy had some major perks: a focus on health and wellness; flexibility with work-life balance; and the ability to work in variable settings in both the public and private sector. Furthermore, physiotherapy had the unique ability to build people’s resiliency in a fully holistic sense.
My decision was made and suddenly my brother and I were pursuing the same career.
My previous dedication to the arts didn't pay its dividends. I needed to complete a lot of prerequisites to apply for UBC's Physiotherapy program. I had nothing beyond Grade 11 Math and Physics and required not only my Grade 12 courses but first year university level sciences as well. While I was adept at analyzing complex poetry, I was hardly up to snuff when it came to algebra and chemical formulas. No matter though. With my decision made I was focused and fully dedicated to my studies. I realized, too, that my physical training simply sharpened my mind for academic endeavours so my lifestyle lent itself well to what I had to do.In summary, I completed everything I needed to. The last course requirement was Physics 12 and I completed that through correspondence in the summer before submitting my application.
Then I had to wait. Mark did too.
We had to find out if we would qualify for an in-person interview that would ultimately determine if we would be admitted to UBC's Physiotherapy program. Mark and I received our letters at the same time. Success. And before we knew it, we completed our interviews and we were admitted into the program.
The two years were strenuous. The schooling was demanding and we had to relocate from Vancouver Island to the big city. Zoe and Owen lived with my parents during this time, as we opted to keep Owen at his school and allow me to focus on my studies. To be there for them, though, I would come back to the island every weekend. I will tell you though, I no longer enjoy riding the ferry. There were countless times where I was caught waiting over four hours at the Horseshoe Bay terminal due to a redirected ferry or technical issues.
As we were finishing our studies, an opportunity presented itself. One of our classmates, Pieter, had finished a placement at the CBI clinic in Duncan. He noted that there was high need for physiotherapists and that we could both be hired on (before we grad). While not overly enthused to be with one of the larger physiotherapy companies, the opportunity to work in our hometown (and work at the same clinic) was too good to pass up. We pursued it and were slated to start in October, 2013.
We went into our positions at CBI with the mindset of developing some necessary skills and confidence before moving on to something else. In fact, we had no intent of staying beyond a year and would only agree to a contract that reflected as much.
A year went by. And then another, and another. We were enjoying what we were doing. We were helping people on a daily basis in our private practice and developing more and more skills. The training opportunities were excellent and every year I felt evermore confident. We started taking on students, too. This added tremendously to what we were doing. Not only did it give us the opportunity to give back (we wouldn't be the therapists we are without preceptors taking the time for us), it gave us increased accountability (which is always a good thing), and was downright fun. And, in that turn of events, our first student, Alex Gerwing, not only became our most valued colleague but a dear friend.
My family grew, too. Locke Arlo LeGear was born on January 31st, 2015. And Quinn Aria LeGear was born on August 9th, 2018. These little people bring so much purpose and joy to everything I do. All the cliche things that people say about children turned out to be true. When you have one child you feel like there is no room for more love and that you couldn't love anything more. Then another child comes along and somehow this feeling grows. It's strange, surreal. And something I wouldn't trade for anything.
There is a downside though. Whenever there is anything sad that relates to children it immediately pulls on the heart strings, sometimes to the point where I have to fight back the tears (quite embarrassing, really). While they are my greatest strength, they are most definitely my greatest weakness.
As the years passed by, Mark and I agreed that we wanted to do more. We were both becoming better versions of ourselves and we wanted to have a greater impact on people's health and wellness. We recognized that we were still helping people on a daily basis, but felt we could do more. To do so, stepping away from CBI and creating something of our own vision was necessary.
We now stand at a critical point in our lives, empowered and excited to do what we can to make a difference in our community and beyond. Thank you for taking the time to learn a little about me and my journey. I hope you’ll climb aboard.