It was a cold day in April, 1980, when a young, handsome Canadian man dipped his artificial leg into the water of St. John’s Harbor, Newfoundland. Terry Fox was determined to kick cancer’s butt by running across Canada. Having endured an aggressive form of the disease that led to the loss of his leg, Fox refused to rest on his laurels or feel sorry for himself in his remission. He didn’t let himself get caught up in the anger or fear that goes with a disabling, frightening diagnosis. If he did, it’s not what he showed to the world. To quote a Switchfoot song, he dared to lift himself up off the floor.
That day marked the beginning of Fox’s Marathon of Hope. The Canadian Cancer Society partnered with him, and he managed to raise over $23 million dollars for cancer research.
At first, Fox didn’t take up much air time on the five o’clock news. But as he limped through Newfoundland and began his journey through Nova Scotia, our channels in Sydney came alive with enthusiasm. I recall being thirteen years old and super eager for Terry to come through our area. I wanted to encourage him and donate a dollar or two. Although I ultimately couldn’t get to North Sydney (it’s quite far from Sydney, especially when you aren’t old enough to drive, have to be in school, and your father is the only driver in the house), I eagerly listened to and watched the news each day following Terry’s progress.
As he ran through the other Atlantic Provinces, Quebec, Eastern Ontario/Upper Canada, fans would sometimes hand him five-figure donations. Corporations donated millions. People hosted fundraisers in the various cities and towns on his behalf, handing him the funds personally or by mail. By the time he passed through the most populated sections of Ontario, Terry had become more of a hero than any other Canadian in history.
At least that was my take.
But after running up to 26 miles a day for all those months, Terry’s body fought back. The Marathon of Hope was cut short while Terry was still in Ontario. His cancer had returned, this time in his lungs. It was devastating. I remember melting down. It’s one of those things where you remember what you were doing when you heard the news, and your life changed. Even now, nearly forty years later, I feel sadness well up inside when I think of that day.
Terry Fox never gave up. He endured more brutal rounds of treatment. While I was focused on boys and popularity and other petty teenage drama, thoughts of Terry were never far away. Everyone in town talked about him, and we hungered for the day when Terry would be restored to health again.
That day never came. Ten months after he was forced off the road, Terry passed away. A pall rested over all of Canada. A teacher cried. So did my friends. But Terry’s legacy never died. To this day, Terry Fox events are held every fall. From beyond the grave, Terry continues to inspire anyone who hears his story. Millions are still raised for cancer research every year. So even though he lost the fight against his disease, his mission and vision are still very much alive.
I have told this story as I remember it, and I hope to run in a Terry Fox Run this coming fall, or in 2019 if my health allows. You can get more information about participating in a Terry Fox event here. You can also get the full, inspiring story in even more detail on that site.
I think we all possess the ability to impact the world the way Terry Fox did. I hope to at least be a source of light for people with pulmonary hypertension or who are in recovery from an addictive behavior, rather than wallow in fear or bury my head in the sand. I can’t say it enough, but I’m so grateful for the day I heard the Goo Goo Dolls’ song that inspired this website and freed me from the bondage of my own head. It allowed me to find my “inner Terry”.
Where is yours ???