Terry Fox: The Longest Running Message

In 530 BC, Pheidippides ran the 26 miles from Marathon to Sparta with a message about a battle. "Joy to you, we've won" he said just before collapsing dead.

In 1980, Terry Fox ran 3,339 miles with a message about another battle. He too would die delivering it.

Many Americans haven’t heard of Terry Fox. However, in Canada there are schools, roads, parks, and even a mountain named after him. His impact on that nation is nothing short of incredible and heroic. The message he sent would raise hundreds of millions of dollars to date for cancer research. To understand his message, you need to first understand Terry Fox.

In the Spring of 1977 at the age of 18, Terry Fox had been dealing with a knee pain that had developed from a car accident several months prior. After playing through the sore knee through basketball season, it had finally gotten to a point where he decided to see a doctor. That pain would be diagnosed as osteosarcoma. The less clinical term somehow sounds more chilling: bone cancer. Four days after this diagnosis Terry’s right leg would be amputated. The odds given for his survival was a coin flip. Had it been just a few years earlier the odds would have been more akin to a dice roll. This fact would not be lost on Terry Fox.

Before his surgery to remove his right leg, Terry’s basketball coach gave him an article of Dick Traum, the first amputee to complete the New York City Marathon. That article immediately sparked something in Terry. At first, his thought was to overcome his disability, but during cancer treatments his thoughts would eventually be less about him and more about others. This portion of a letter he would send to the Canadian Cancer Society a couple of years later sums up his thinking:

"…as I went through the 16 months of the physically and emotionally draining ordeal of chemotherapy, I was rudely awakened by the feelings that surrounded and coursed through the cancer clinic. There were faces with the brave smiles, and the ones who had given up smiling. There were feelings of hopeful denial, and the feelings of despair. My quest would not be a selfish one. I could not leave knowing these faces and feelings would still exist, even though I would be set free from mine. Somewhere the hurting must stop....and I was determined to take myself to the limit for this cause."

Terry would begin an intense training regimen after his cancer treatments. He would tell his family he was going to complete a marathon just like Dick Traum. That was only half the story. What he didn’t tell them was that he had a bigger idea in mind. But first things first. 

Training for a marathon is a difficult endeavor for any person. For Terry Fox it was strenuous beyond comprehension. First he had to get used to his artificial limb. This meant he had to basically learn how to run all over again. Due to his artificial limb – and remember this an artificial limb from the 1970’s – he had to hop-step on his good leg so his artificial leg had time to reset its springs. The additional pressure he had to place on both his good leg and his stump (I hate that word, but that’s what they call it) led to bone bruises, cysts, and blisters. Terry found that if he could just fight through the intense pain for the first 20 minutes of running, his brain would cross a threshold that allowed the run to go a bit easier.

Terry’s first real test would come on August 1979 when he ran a marathon in Prince George, British Columbia. He finished in last place. More than 15 minutes behind the next closest competitor. But he finished. He proved he could run one marathon. Now he set his sights on something far more ambitious, 200 marathons in a row. That's what he estimated it would take to achieve his grand plan: to run across Canada to raise money for cancer research.

On October 1979, Terry sent a letter to the Canadian Cancer Society in which he stated his ambition. Terry wrote that he would overcome his disability and complete his run even if he had to “crawl every last mile.” His letter ended with this: 

"We need your help. The people in cancer clinics all over the world need people who believe in miracles. I am not a dreamer, and I am not saying that this will initiate any kind of definitive answer or cure to cancer. I believe in miracles. I have to."

The Canadian Cancer Society agreed to help support him only if a heart specialist stated he was fit to attempt the run. During his exam with heart specialists it was discovered he had left ventricular hypertrophy, the medical term for an enlarged heart. Doctors warned Terry of the risks he faced with such a condition. However, they eventually cleared him when he promised that he would stop his run immediately if he began to experience any heart issues.

After receiving clearance from doctors, Terry would send a second letter seeking sponsors. Terry was able to muster enough sponsors to cover the daily expenses of the run. In his letter to sponsors, Terry wrote:

"I remember promising myself that, should I live, I would rise up to meet this new challenge [of fundraising for cancer research] face to face and prove myself worthy of life, something too many people take for granted."

Terry would turn away any sponsor that asked him to endorse their products or carried any conditions. He insisted that nobody was to profit from his run. He purposely wore non-branded clothes. The only visible logo on him would be the iconic three stripes across his blue Adidas sneakers.

Terry Fox named his cancer awareness campaign the Marathon of Hope. He would print that on a T-shirt. That would be the ad, Terry would be the medium. His initial goal was to raise $1 million in donations, but he would eventually change it to $1 dollar from every Canadian ($24.1 million dollars).

The Marathon of Hope began on April 12, 1980 on the far east coast of Canada in St. John’s, Newfoundland. It consisted of three people: Terry Fox, a reporter from the CBC, and Terry’s good friend Doug Alward who would drive a camper for road safety, shelter and meals. That day would start with Terry filling two jugs with water from the Atlantic Ocean. One jug would be a souvenir, the other to pour into the Pacific Ocean upon reaching the coast of British Columbia. He then dipped the foot of his artificial leg into the Atlantic Ocean and began his run.

In the first week Terry was met with heavy winds, rain, and a snowstorm. For the first ten weeks there was little media coverage other than a short weekly phone interview with a CBC radio show and the local news outlets Terry and Doug would contact along the way. His first substantial reception occurred when arriving in the small town of Port aux Basques, Newfoundland where he was greeted by 10,000 residents and presented with a donation of over $10,000. This was his first sign of real progress.

After the first month, Terry Fox was largely unknown and his cause went mostly unnoticed beyond the local news reports. However, the closer he would get to the interior of Canada, the more the country would find out about him. During this time he was already experiencing bleeding of his stump, shin splints, cysts, and tendonitis.

On June 22, roughly 1,500 miles into his 5,000 mile run, Terry arrived in Montreal. It was at this time, Isadore Sharp, the founder and CEO of Four Seasons Hotels and Resorts, heard about a “one-legged kid doing the impossible.” Sharp had lost a son to melanoma in 1978 and was so moved that he offered food and accommodation at his hotels along Terry’s route. When Terry expressed a need for more donations, Sharp pledged $2 a mile and asked nearly a thousand other corporations to do the same. 

Montreal would end up being Terry’s first break from running in 73 days. The only reason he took the days off was at the request of the Canadian Cancer Society. They wanted him to arrive in the capital of Ottawa on Canada Day to increase fundraising efforts.

Arriving in Ottawa, Terry would enter a stadium of 16,000 fans to perform the opening kickoff between the Ottawa Senators and the Saskatchawan Rough Riders. Thousands would gather to see him run through the city and speak in the public square. The country of Canada was taking more and more notice of Terry. When he left Ottawa on his way Toronto, Toronto would be waiting. In a way, all of Canada would be.

At this time the physical demands of running a marathon every day was beginning to take an excruciating toll on Terry. On top of his many physical hardships to this point, we can add an inflamed knee, dizzy spells, acute tendonitis in his ankle, along with his artificial leg and spare legs often breaking down and needing repair.

Toronto's reception of Terry Fox would be nothing short of a spectacle. It was as if the city and news media wanted to make up for all the lonely miles and small receptions Terry had been through. Thousands of Canandians lined the roads cheering him into the Toronto, while others would run behind him as if it were a scene from Rocky. He'd receive a police escort into the center of city where he'd speak to tens of thousands of fans. His hero, hockey player Darryl Sitter, would give him his all star jersey. Another hockey legend, Gordie Howe, would hand him a check for $25,000. He would meet with dignitaries and the Prime Minister. The message Terry Fox had been sending was beginning to be heard.

“There can be no reason for me to stop. No matter what pain I suffer, it is nothing compared to the pain of those who have cancer, of those who endure treatment.”

After leaving Toronto the running became even more of an ordeal for Terry. He had developed a hard, dry cough that just never seemed go away throughout the summer. In typical form he pressed on, even though each day he suffered from greater exhaustion and pain. In his diary entry from Aug. 29, 1980, Terry wrote:

"Today was a difficult day. I didn't sleep last night and was wiped before I started.... I feel sick tonight.”

Three days after this entry Terry would suffer an intense coughing fit with severe chest pains. Like everything else, Terry would brush this off and continue to run. But after several more miles he stopped. With all the pain he had battled through, this, whatever it was, was just too much. After 143 days and 3,339 miles, Terry asked Doug Alward to drive him to the hospital. 

Terry wondered if his lung had collapsed or if his enlarged heart might finally be acting up. It was neither. Just like his knee pain was more than knee pain three years earlier, his cough was more than a cough. It was cancer. It never left him. He’d been running with it in his lungs.

Terry Fox would undergo intensive chemotherapy yet again in his young life. Letters would pour into the hospital and his home from all over the world wishing him well. He’d receive the prayers of Canadians and even a telegram from Pope John Paul II. This would lift his spirits, but unfortunately the cancer would remain unmoved. By mid June, with his body and immune system depleted, Terry developed pneumonia and fell into a coma. On June 28, 1981, with his family at his side, Terry died.

When Terry Fox's run ended on September 1, 1980, he had raised $1.3 million in donations. On the day he died that total had reached over $24 million. Terry finally achieved his goal of $1 from every Canadian for cancer research.

Upon learning of Terry Fox's death, flags across Canada would fly at half mast and the Prime Minister would stand before the House of Commons and say this of him:

"It occurs very rarely in the life of a nation that the courageous spirit of one person unites all people in the celebration of his life and in the mourning of his death. We do not think of him as one who was defeated by misfortune, but as one who inspired us with the example of the triumph of the human spirit over adversity."

Terry Fox would never complete his Marathon of Hope. He would never pour water from the Atlantic into the Pacific. He would never even make it to the age of 23. His message, however, has never stopped running. It runs through his foundation and countless marathons across the world in his name. These efforts have raised over $700 million to date for cancer research.

To those battling cancer and the loved ones at their side, I hope your version Pheidippides arrives with the message “Joy to you, we’ve won.” 

Until then, listen to the message of Terry Fox. It's the one that tells you to never stop fighting, no matter what.

May is Cancer Research Month. This article is my small way of acknowledging that, Terry Fox, my stepfather Don, my cousin Carrie, my uncle Henry, my aunt Joyce, and my father.

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