Dr. Leo Dai's Health and Wellness Blog

In Part 1 of this series, I provided a high-level overview of what prompted me to begin my personal health transformation journey. My hope was that it might inspire you, even just a little, to take steps toward improving your own health.

After reading the previous post, you may have thought to yourself: “Dr. Dai probably already had a sports background,” or “Dr. Dai is probably naturally talented,” or “It’s too late for me to start,” or “I just don’t have time to exercise.”

My response to all of those thoughts is: nope, nope, nope, and nope.

In Part 2, I want to share my personal relationship with exercise and fitness. By the end of this post, I hope to convince you that I am neither naturally talented nor someone with an athletic background. I probably have less free time than many of you do—and most importantly, it is never too late to start.

Some of what I’m about to share is deeply personal and traumatic. Some of these stories I have never told anyone outside of those closest to me. My hope is that by being vulnerable and open about my own journey, perhaps you too can look past your own past experiences and traumas and find confidence and empowerment within yourself.

I was born in 1987 in Qiqihar, one of the major cities in northeastern China. I was raised in a highly educated family that placed tremendous emphasis on academics. As an only child, many expectations were placed upon me, especially in a country that was still in an early stage of economic development at the time. Sports and extracurricular activities were viewed as secondary—or sometimes even discouraged—because they were not considered practical, income-generating skills.

In fact, I have almost no memories of participating in sports, exercise, or physical activity during my early childhood in China. What I do remember is studying constantly, reading extensively, and being praised for achieving good grades.

At age seven, I moved with my parents to Aachen, Germany while my father pursued his PhD. Some of my happiest childhood memories were formed in this beautiful Gothic city, and even though I was not born there, I have long considered it my hometown.

But not all of those memories were positive.

As many of you know, soccer is deeply ingrained in German culture. Being the only Chinese student at school, I quickly became known as the weakest soccer player. I was always the last to be picked and often the first to be blamed when my team lost. I was pushed around and bullied. Over time, I began to believe that sports simply were not meant for me.

Instead, I retreated into the library and buried myself in books. Books became my safe place. Exercise and sports became associated with failure, humiliation, bullying, and fear.

Shortly before my eighth birthday, I attended a swimming class with my school. It was my first time in a swimming pool. Unknowingly, I slipped into the deep end, and the lifeguards failed to notice. I was submerged for approximately 15 minutes before finally being rescued. I spent nearly a week in the hospital with tubes going in and out of my body.

Now, as a physician, I realize it is nothing short of miraculous that I survived.

The experience left me traumatized. It made an already inactive child even more cautious and fearful. To this day, I still carry a chronic sensation of shortness of breath that began after that incident.

At age 11, after running 800 meters during PE class, I vomited and felt unwell for an entire week afterward.

At age 13, my family immigrated to Vancouver, Canada, and unfortunately, the same patterns continued.

I still remember, vividly, my Grade 8 parent-teacher interview with my PE teacher, Mr. Tagami. He told my father: “Leo has the fitness level of a 65-year-old.”

From Grades 8 through 10, I dreaded every PE class. I never achieved higher than a C+ in physical education. I used to tell my teachers that I was “allergic to exercise,” which I now realize was likely exercise-induced urticaria.

This only reinforced my belief that I belonged with books and video games instead of sports.

Every term from Grade 8 to 10, we were required to run six laps around a 400-meter track as part of a fitness assessment. Every single time, I started walking after the first lap. Every single time, I vomited after dragging myself across the finish line in over 20 agonizing minutes.

I was also bullied during PE class. I was tackled for no reason by other students. One incident left my left arm numb for several days. During swimming activities, some bullies even forced my head underwater, triggering memories and anxieties from my near-drowning experience.

Again, I was always among the last students picked for sports teams.

I wanted nothing to do with exercise, aside from occasionally playing very casual basketball with close friends whom I trusted would not hurt or humiliate me.

After completing Grade 10, I finally felt liberated, because PE was no longer mandatory in Grades 11 and 12.

From that point onward—through the rest of high school, university, medical school, residency, and the early years of medical practice—I did essentially zero exercise. And when I say zero, I truly mean none.

I convinced myself that exercise was for “jocks,” “jerks,” or vain people obsessed with appearances. I also constantly told myself that I didn’t have time, even though deep down I knew those were excuses.

I treated my body terribly. I ate junk food regularly, drank bubble tea and soda constantly, ate out frequently, binged on ice cream and deep-fried foods, and consumed more McDonald’s than I’d like to admit.

Everything changed on September 15, 2017.

That was the day my mother-in-law passed away from lung cancer at the age of 56. I am not suggesting that lifestyle alone caused her illness, but she was also a physician who had not always prioritized her own health. Through her experience, I saw the possible trajectory of my own future if I continued neglecting myself.

Her death devastated my wife, who spent years processing that grief. I could not bear the thought of causing the same pain and devastation to my wife and daughters if I too died young one day.

At her bedside, I promised my mother-in-law that I would take care of the family. But how could I possibly fulfill that promise if I was not healthy and alive myself?

Shortly after her passing, I walked into a gym for the very first time and hired a personal trainer, determined to honor that promise.

On day one, my trainer—shoutout to Mark Posten—asked me to hold a 30-second plank followed by 20 bodyweight walking lunges. After the second set, I became so nauseated and dizzy that I had to lie on the floor for 25 minutes. Mark brought me a Gatorade and told me he had never seen anyone react that way before.

Honestly, I wasn’t surprised. Aside from the occasional casual basketball game, I had done virtually no exercise since age 15.

Over the next 10 months, however, I trained consistently 4–5 days per week and never missed a session. I trusted Mark, his expertise, and the process.

By the end of that training period, I could perform four sets of those same walking lunges while carrying a 100-pound barbell on my back, and hold 90-second planks with 45 pounds strapped to me.

During that same period, I also trained for the Vancouver Sun Run and completed a nonstop 10 km race for the first time in my life in 1 hour and 4 minutes.

That personal best would stand until the 2025 Sun Run.

Then COVID happened, the gyms closed, and—as you already know from Part 1—the rest is history.

One of the questions I get asked most often is: “How do you find time to exercise?”

My answer is always the same: if you truly care about something, you will make time for it and find a way.

During my personal training period, I developed the habit of waking up at 4 a.m. I discovered that the early morning hours were protected “me time”—a period free from distractions, when I could focus on the things that mattered.

We all have the same 24 hours in a day.

If I can carve out time to exercise while working a 1.5 FTE job, serving on a non-profit board, co-managing a business, and being a husband and father of three, then most people can find some way to make it work too.

I urge you to stop focusing on what you cannot do, and instead start thinking about what you can do.

So there you have it: I certainly did not grow up with an athletic background. I am definitely not naturally talented. I discovered fitness later in life. We all have the same number of hours each day, and there is almost always a way forward if you truly commit your heart to it.

In Part 3, I’ll go into detail about how I lost 45 pounds during the first year of my health transformation while becoming leaner, stronger, and more muscular.