Blogger's Note: both parents have since passed away
Terry Fox
September 1, 1980 – It was a dull day in Northern Ontario when Terry Fox ran his last miles.
He had started out strong that morning and felt confident. The road
was lined with people shouting, “Don't give up, you can make it!” words
that spurred him and lifted his spirits.
But after 18 miles he started coughing and felt a pain in his chest.
Terry knew how to cope with pain. He'd run through it as he always had before; he'd simply keep going until the pain went away.
For 3,339 miles, from St John's, Newfoundland, Canada's eastern most
city on the shore of the Atlantic, he'd run through six provinces and
now was two-thirds of the way home. He'd run close to a marathon a day,
for 143 days. No mean achievement for an able-bodied runner, an
extraordinary feat for an amputee.
Terry's left leg was strong and muscular. His right was a mere stump
fitted with an artificial limb made of fibreglass and steel. He'd lost
the leg to cancer when he was 18.
He was 22 now; curly haired, good-looking, sunburned. He was strong, wilful and stubborn. His run, the
Marathon of Hope, as he called it, a quixotic adventure across Canada that defied logic and common sense, was his way of repaying a debt.
Terry believed that he had won his fight against cancer, and he
wanted to raise money, $1 million perhaps, to fight the disease. There
was a second, possibly more important purpose to his marathon; a man is
not less because he has lost a leg, indeed, he may be more. Certainly,
he showed there were no limits to what an amputee could do.
He changed people's attitude towards the disabled, and he showed that
while cancer had claimed his leg, his spirit was unbreakable.
His
Marathon of Hope had started as an improbable dream –
two friends, one to drive the van, one to run, a ribbon of highway, and
the sturdy belief that they could perform a miracle.
