Monday marks 30 years since Terry Fox began his Marathon of Hope.
It’s hard to believe it’s been that long.
Thirty years since Fox dipped his foot in the Atlantic Ocean. Since he began to run across this vast country of ours. Since he put a face to cancer. Since he inspired millions — at home and around the world.
Fox’s marathon was something special — and not just for the obvious reasons, either.
Yes, he was attempting to run thousands of kilometres on one leg. Yes, he was running a marathon a day. Yes, he never finished. But he also was running in the name of a disease many people did not understand at the time.
We have to remember this was 1980. There wasn’t a run or a walk every weekend for one disease or another like there is today. There weren’t any ribbons to wear, any pledge forms to sign. And there weren’t any second chances.
In 1980, if you were told you were going to die in three months from cancer — you were likely going to die in three months from cancer.
But Fox brushed all that aside. Knowing what he was about to do could kill him, he began his run. He would not be stopped. He would not cheat. He would beat this.
But we all know how it ended. Come Thunder Bay, the cancer had spread and Fox was forced to stop his Marathon of Hope. He died the year after.
You see Terry Fox all around us today.
Not just in April when we remember the start of his marathon and not just in September when we run for him. Not just in Thunder Bay, where a statue of him stands tall.
It’s in the spirit of Canadians — the fact that we remember this “ordinary” Canadian who tried to do the extraordinary.
All you have to do is look at the public outcry over the fact that Terry Fox’s mother was not the one to bring the Olympic flame into BC Place in memory of her son during the opening ceremony of the Vancouver Games.
As far as they were concerned, Fox personified what it means to be Canadian — more than Wayne Gretzky, more than Steve Nash, more than anyone else. And when VANOC organizers ignored Fox for the Olympics, people were incredibly angry.
There was no one like Terry Fox before him, and has been no one like him since.
Because when it comes down to it, would you be able to do what he did after getting a fatal cancer diagnosis? I can’t say I would. I would like to think I would be brave, but I have a feeling I would rather just close my eyes to the world.
Fox didn’t close his eyes to the world when he got his diagnosis. Instead, his eyes were opened to the world, and he ran — not for himself, but for the children stricken with the disease.
Hopefully one day Fox’s marathon will be complete and there will be a cure for cancer.
Until then, we all carry a part of Fox will us.
Terry Fox’s imprint
Monday marks 30 years since Terry Fox began his Marathon of Hope.
It’s hard to believe it’s been that long.
Thirty years since Fox dipped his foot in the Atlantic Ocean. Since he began to run across this vast country of ours. Since he put a face to cancer. Since he inspired millions — at home and around the world.
Fox’s marathon was something special — and not just for the obvious reasons, either.
Yes, he was attempting to run thousands of kilometres on one leg. Yes, he was running a marathon a day. Yes, he never finished. But he also was running in the name of a disease many people did not understand at the time.
We have to remember this was 1980. There wasn’t a run or a walk every weekend for one disease or another like there is today. There weren’t any ribbons to wear, any pledge forms to sign. And there weren’t any second chances.
In 1980, if you were told you were going to die in three months from cancer — you were likely going to die in three months from cancer.
But Fox brushed all that aside. Knowing what he was about to do could kill him, he began his run. He would not be stopped. He would not cheat. He would beat this.
But we all know how it ended. Come Thunder Bay, the cancer had spread and Fox was forced to stop his Marathon of Hope. He died the year after.
You see Terry Fox all around us today.
Not just in April when we remember the start of his marathon and not just in September when we run for him. Not just in Thunder Bay, where a statue of him stands tall.
It’s in the spirit of Canadians — the fact that we remember this “ordinary” Canadian who tried to do the extraordinary.
All you have to do is look at the public outcry over the fact that Terry Fox’s mother was not the one to bring the Olympic flame into BC Place in memory of her son during the opening ceremony of the Vancouver Games.
As far as they were concerned, Fox personified what it means to be Canadian — more than Wayne Gretzky, more than Steve Nash, more than anyone else. And when VANOC organizers ignored Fox for the Olympics, people were incredibly angry.
There was no one like Terry Fox before him, and has been no one like him since.
Because when it comes down to it, would you be able to do what he did after getting a fatal cancer diagnosis? I can’t say I would. I would like to think I would be brave, but I have a feeling I would rather just close my eyes to the world.
Fox didn’t close his eyes to the world when he got his diagnosis. Instead, his eyes were opened to the world, and he ran — not for himself, but for the children stricken with the disease.
Hopefully one day Fox’s marathon will be complete and there will be a cure for cancer.
Until then, we all carry a part of Fox will us.