In the summer of 2026, my dog Berton and I got into a Canadream RV and ventured east from our home in Alberta.
Over the course of 17,000 kilometres and 45 days, we journeyed to Cape Breton and back.
There are many great memories from that trip.
The potato museums in PEI and New Brunswick.
The surprisingly fantastic Anne Murray Centre.
The Great Clay Belt in Ontario.
And driving over the Confederation Bridge.
But one thing that stands out for me was a stop I made just outside Thunder Bay.
Overlooking Lake Superior, with the fabled Sleeping Giant Island off in the distance, there is a statue that receives 100,000 visitors annually.
The figure has a determined look on their face.
I would wager there isn’t a Canadian alive who doesn’t recognize it.
And whenever there’s a conversation surrounding the greatest Canadian, his name is almost always at the top of the list.
His story is one of personal determination, extraordinary courage, and a mission that transformed a young man’s battle with cancer into a national movement.
I’m Craig Baird from Canadian History Ehx…and This… Is Canada.
Today, I’m sharing the story of that young man and I’m sure you’ve already guessed who he is.
This is…the story of Terry Fox!
Before we continue, a quick note.
If you’re a long-time listener you might remember that when I was first starting this podcast, I did an episode about Terry Fox.
The episode from six years ago featured clips of an interview I did with Bill Vigars, who spent a lot of time with Terry on the Marathon of Hope.
Sadly, Bill Vigars passed away on Oct. 10, 2024, but I’m very honoured to share his voice throughout this episode because his insight was invaluable and important to share.
To understand Terry Fox’s determination during the Marathon of Hope, it helps to look at the years before he became famous.
His childhood was not defined by illness, it was shaped by family life, sports, friendships, hard work and a competitive streak that appeared long before his diagnosis.
Terrance Stanley Fox was born on July 28, 1958, in Winnipeg, Manitoba.
He was the second of four children born to Betty and Rolland Fox.
His older brother was Fred, and his younger siblings were Darrell and Judith and for the first few years of Terry’s life the family lived in Transcona, a suburb of Winnipeg, where he attended Wayoata Elementary School.
His father, who was known as Rolly, worked for Canadian National Railway, as a switchman and his mother who was of Metis heritage, worked part-time.
Terry grew up in a hardworking, active household.
He and his siblings spent time outdoors, rode their bicycles and played sports together.
They also picked blueberries during summer holidays to earn their own spending money.
These were ordinary childhood experiences, but they offer a glimpse into a family environment where effort and independence mattered.
The family also enjoyed friendly competition, and Terry was known for being stubborn when he wanted to win an argument or prove a point.
His mother recalled in one interview that when he was a toddler and stacking blocks, he repeatedly started over each time the tower fell until all the blocks stayed in place.
That determination was a quality he got from his mother.
Betty quit smoking cold turkey and never started again just because her friends teased her that she couldn’t stay away from cigarettes forever.
While life was good, Rolly had grown tired of the long and cold Winnipeg winters.
In 1966, when Terry was eight, he packed up the family and moved to Vancouver, and eventually Port Coquitlam.
Rolly may have lost 12 years of seniority at work, but now the family could enjoy the best weather in the nation.
Having spent most of my life on the Canadian Prairies, I can’t say I blame him.
In Port Coquitlam Terry could attend school, spend time outdoors, play sports and grow up alongside his brothers and sister.
The family home was busy, and the children were expected to show respect for their elders, and to stay out of trouble.
Sports was often top of mind, as the children competed in everything from soccer to basketball.
One of the most interesting periods of Terry’s life began at Mary Hill Junior High School when as a Grade 8 student, he was small for his age, relatively shy and not an obvious basketball star.
But both he and his friend Doug Alward loved basketball.
At first, Terry was terrible.
In his first season, he was on the court for one minute of gametime.
To get better he played one-on-one with Doug daily.
In Grade Nine, he arrived early at school to train in the gym’s basketball court before classes started and never missed a day of training.
It paid off.
By Grade 10, Terry was a starting guard on the team and won the Athlete of the Year Award at the school, an honour he shared with his friend Doug.
The following year, he was at Port Coquitlam High School where he was a starting guard on the school’s basketball team.
It was sheer determination that got him to that point, and a sign of things to come.
Because by then he had met Bob McGill, the physical-education teacher at
Mary Hill Junior High School, who suggested Terry try out for cross-country running as a way of training and although he found it exhausting, he did love hearing the coach yell “well done” as they arrived at the finish. By the time he graduated from Port Coquitlam High School in 1976, Terry had become an accomplished athlete.
He then applied to Simon Fraser University to study kinesiology. He hoped to become a physical education teacher.
At 18, his life seemed full of possibilities but then he took a trip which shaped his future in ways he could never expect.
On Nov. 12, 1976, Terry was driving home on the Lougheed Highway when he got distracted by a bridge being constructed nearby.
That split second distraction resulted in a collision with the back of a pickup truck.
His car was totalled, but it seemed like Terry escaped without any injury.
Except for the nagging pain in his right knee.
In the days after the crash, Terry believed he likely hit it on the dash.
But the knee continued to hurt for weeks…and then months…
In February 1977, he visited the medical clinic at Simon Fraser University and was told he had a chemical reaction, but no other explanation was offered.
All they prescribed him was painkillers for five days.
By March, Terry’s knee was bothering him to the point he had to limp home after a run.
It was throbbing and swollen.
He went back to the doctor and was referred to a bone specialist at the Royal Columbian University in New Westminster.
After looking at the X-rays, Dr. Michael Piper suspected Terry had a malignant tumour known as osteosarcoma.
It is most common in males between the age of 10 and 25, and it develops in the connective tissues of the body.
About 60 percent of tumours develop in the knee, with the rest appearing in the hip, shoulder and jaw.
It was also very rare that Dr. Piper, in his entire time as a doctor, had only seen two of that type.
Prior to Terry, the most famous person to be diagnosed with this type of cancer was Edward Kennedy Jr., the son of Senator Ted Kennedy, who lost his leg in 1973 when he was just 12.
He also underwent grueling experimental chemotherapy and later became a prominent healthcare attorney, disability rights advocate, and served as a member of the Connecticut State Senate.
In Terry’s case, further testing confirmed that he had a malignant tumour and like Edward Kennedy Jr. he would have to have his leg amputated, followed by chemotherapy treatments to destroy any cancer cells circulating in his blood.
Dr. Piper told him that he had a 50/50 chance of survival.
But then two things happened that changed everything.
First, Piper told Terry that two years earlier, the survival rate was 15 percent.
Terry realized at that moment the importance of cancer research in treatment, and one day finding a cure.
Second, while waiting for his surgery, he read an article about Dick Traum, the first amputee to complete the New York City Marathon.
And that was enough to plant a seed that would take a few years to come into fruition…
But first he had his right leg amputated just above the knee on March 9, 1977.
Three weeks later, he used an artificial limb for the first time.
It was just temporary. A permanent limb would be made once the swelling in his leg went down.
Terry said
“When I took the first step I felt as though I was stepping on air. I felt as if I was stepping on nothing, straight down. The first thing I said to myself was ‘How am I ever possibly going to walk?’”
Instead of backing down, Terry pushed himself.
Every day he used his new leg for longer.
He went from two crutches to one, then to a cane.
Throughout it all, Terry showed an incredibly positive attitude.
His friend Doug was still in his life and watched as his friend never blamed anyone, never asked for special treatment, and never withdrew into himself.
Three weeks after his surgery, Terry was playing minigolf with his father.
He eventually pushed himself to play 18 holes of golf.
But he wasn’t only fighting to walk again, he was also fighting cancer.
And that meant chemotherapy, which sometimes is an even bigger battle.
His hair fell out, which Terry said bothered him more than losing his leg.
He was often nauseous and lost his appetite.
When the final chemotherapy treatment came, the nurses gave him a cake to celebrate and eventually his hair grew back, only curly this time.
Through his fight he saw firsthand how terrible cancer could be, and how unfair it was that children younger than him had to battle it as well.
Terry said to Macleans,
“In the clinic when I lost my leg, there were four in a room. I had to listen to doctors tell people they had a 35 percent chance of living and then to hear that person tell their family. My heart became larger during that time.”
While Terry was going through all of this, Rick Hansen heard about a young guy who had lost his leg to cancer.
He felt a connection almost instantly.
Rick had been with a friend on a fishing trip four years earlier when the driver lost control of the vehicle and rolled.
The impact threw him from the vehicle, resulting in a spinal injury that left Rick paralyzed from the waist down.
He worked on rehabilitation, completed high school, and in 1976 he enrolled at the University of British Columbia.
At the time, Rick was a member of the Vancouver Cable Cars wheelchair basketball team and saw a kindred spirit in Terry, a young basketball player from Simon Fraser University.
They were both athletes with a passion for competing.
When Rick heard about Terry Fox, he cold called him and suggested that he play wheelchair basketball.
The two hit it off immediately.
By then Terry had finished chemotherapy, but he showed up at the Renfrew Community Centre with thin hair, underweight and looking pale.
When his first practice began, he was unable to get the ball to the rim, by the time it ended he had made two layups.
Rick said of Terry’s determination. said,
“Terry started pushing up a hill near Simon Fraser University, and I would join him when I could get over there from UBC. We’d meet at the bottom, park our cars, and then wheel all the way up along the side of the highway. It was quite a few kilometres up a fairly steep mountain. Once we got to the top, we’d go to the university to do weights and shoot hoops. Then we’d glide back down to our cars, through cold and rain, and go our separate ways.”
With a new blossoming friendship, he joined the Cable Cars and in only two months went from being 13th on the team to sixth and then he was selected to be on the National Wheelchair Basketball Team.
The following season, he was one of only two players from the Cable Cars selected for the league’s All-Star Team.
In just two years, Terry went from hospital bed to playing wheelchair basketball three nights a week while learning to run on his new leg.
He had not forgotten about that article he had read before his surgery.
Dick Traum had been on his mind and for 14 months Terry had been training to run a marathon.
To do so he had developed a unique hop-step pace that put more pressure on his good leg than his artificial one.
As he put in the hours, he realized that for the first 20 minutes it was painful but eventually he passed the threshold and the run became easier.
With that in mind Terry ran his first marathon.
On Sept. 2, 1979, Terry along with his friend Doug Alward and his brother Darrell left the starting line.
Doug finished eighth.
Darrell placed second in the junior race.
While…. Terry…. well… he finished last.
As he crossed the finish line, he was greeted with a round of applause from spectators.
He was also comforted in knowing that he was only 10 minutes behind the last two-legged runner.
Which is not bad at all considering where he had been just a few years earlier.
Embolden by the knowledge he could run a marathon; Terry began to dream just a little bigger.
When he returned home, he told his brother Darrell that he was thinking of running across Canada.
Darrell asked him when he wanted to do that, Terry told him within two years.
Darrell replied,
“Why not try for next spring?”
In late-1979, Terry shared the plan to run across Canada with his mother.
. She told him to focus on running across British Columbia, or just in marathons, instead.
Terry got so mad that he stormed out of the room and slammed the door.
Betty said
“He said, ‘I thought you’d be one of the first persons to believe in me’, and I wasn’t. I was the first person who let him down.”
When Betty told Rolly, he knew his son well enough to know this wasn’t going away so he chose to support him. Eventually, Betty came around to the idea, but his mother wasn’t the only skeptic.
Terry had contacted Blair MacKenzie; the executive director of the British Columbia and Yukon Division of the Canadian Cancer Society who was no stranger to being approached for financial support for a fundraiser.
He often tested their sincerity by giving no financial support until they found more sponsors.
So that’s what he did this time as well.
With his mother’s help, Terry wrote letters to companies like Imperial Oil, Ford and Adidas.
He asked for support to buy a new artificial leg, to get a van, pay for gas and more.
While waiting for their responses, Terry kept training.
He also came up with an itinerary.
His goal was to run 48 kilometres a day from April 12 to Sept. 10, 1980.
By then Adidas had given him running shoes, Imperial Oil provided $500 for gas and Ford gave him a van.
The War Amps of Canada offered to repair his artificial leg whenever needed, and private donors gave money for the airfare to St. John’s.
With those sponsors, the Canadian Cancer Society agreed to promote the run.
By then Terry had run over 5,000 kilometres in training.
So, everything was in place when Terry and his best friend Doug Alward boarded a Pacific Western Airlines 737 for St. John’s, Newfoundland and Labrador.
Then, in front of a small news crew, surrounded by a few curious onlookers Terry Fox dipped his right leg into the Atlantic Ocean.
It was April 12, 1980, and The Marathon of Hope had begun.
In front of him was 7,500 kilometres through some of the most beautiful, and most difficult, terrain in the world.
Then he looked down at the jugs he was holding in his hands.
He was going to fill both of them with water from the Atlantic Ocean and deliver them to the Pacific.
One he would pour out at the end of the run, the other he would keep.
Unfortunately, as he crouched down, a wave hit him.
He dropped one of the jugs and watched as it drifted out into the ocean, never to be seen again.
He filled up the lone jug, and Terry began to run.
When a reporter asked him why he was so confident he could accomplish his run, Terry said,
“If it’s only up to me and my mind. I’ve got a lot of positive attitude. I think I can do it. But you never know what might happen.”
As he ran through St. John’s, people clapped and cheered him on.
When he reached City Hall, he was greeted by Mayor Dorothy Wyatt who gave him a hug, placed her chain of office over his shirt and had him sign the guest book.
She then presented him with a message for the mayors of Vancouver and Victoria, along with a little flag.
At the same time, the Canadian Cancer Society flag was raised and once the ceremony was done, Terry began to run again.
As he hit the road, the cold, wet, Atlantic spring weather hit him hard.
Snow was still in patches on the ground as a bone chilling drizzle fell on him.
After several kilometres, Terry was soaking wet.
In front of him was a van that would be his home for the next six months.
At the wheel was Doug who stayed just ahead of him providing him with anything he might need.
Right now, Terry needed a sock and was impatient about it.
Doug said,
“I could tell that our troubles had already started.”
Terry and Doug were about to learn something I discovered when my childhood best friend and I got a place together during college.
Good friends do not always make good roommates. For me, it ended the friendship.
For them, it strained the friendship almost to a breaking point, But I’ll get to that.
That first stage of the trip may have been a little rocky, but Terry still covered about 20 kilometres.
They had an invitation to sleep at a Holiday Inn in St. John’s, and since the van’s heater was not working, they took up the offer.
That night Terry wrote in his diary,
“Today is the day it all begins.”
The next day, Doug and Terry returned to the exact spot where they had stopped.
Terry stepped out and began to run.
It became their only pattern for the coming days.
Terry ran through the morning, took a break, and then ran in the afternoon.
He did in it.
Rain.
Snow.
Wind.
Heat.
It didn’t matter. Terry ran.
For nine days he did this until he arrived in Gambo, Newfoundland on April 21.
It had been 350 kilometres and residents met him on the road to give him $10 or $20.
Terry wrote that it made him feel like the Marathon of Hope had unlimited potential.
Then his hopes came crashing down the next day in Gander when he arrived at City Hall to find only three people there to greet him.
Through those early days the lack of interest in what he was doing was what got Terry down the most.
If a community supported him, it fueled him for days.
On May 6, he reached Port Aux Basque, his last destination in Newfoundland before he got on the ferry to Cape Breton.
What the small town of 6000 people did fueled Terry for days to come.
They had raised $8,000 for the Marathon of Hope and then added another $4,000 by the time he left.
The next day he would be arriving in North Sydney, Nova Scotia. By then he had been on the road with Dough for three weeks and their friendship was frayed.
Terry expected Doug to drum up publicity, but Doug felt that Terry was the star of the show and the only person anyone wanted to talk to.
quote
“Nobody wanted to talk to me, they wanted to talk to Terry Fox. If you’re calling B.C. from Newfoundland, you might as well put Terry Fox on the line.”
Doug withdrew from his friend and Terry got easily frustrated with him.
The situation was made worse by sharing close quarters.
Doug said that after a while, he didn’t want to do anything for Terry except drive.
Sometimes, he would even refuse to mark the miles, and at one point Terry threw rocks at the van to get his attention. Doug said,
“It was my job to stand by the van and have water ready for him. Sometimes, I would just stretch out my hand to give him his water and neither of us would say a word. Once when I handed him water, he just threw it in my face.”
Despite the tension, the two soldiered on and arrived in North Sydney, where only three people showed up to greet him and there was no media.
Terry took matters into his own hands.
They went to all the radio stations to drum up support. Finally, the local TV station agreed to do a story on him.
Terry wrote on May 10.
“The Cancer Society here in Nova Scotia is doing nothing and money is being wasted. I would like to get my hands on the people in Halifax.”
He was in Port Hawkesbury on his way and getting very little support.
Thankfully the weather was improving.
The going was still so tough, not only on his body, or on his friendship with Doug, but also on his safety.
Every day he was on the road he was in danger of being hit by a vehicle.
His incredible effort was also finally being recognized.
On May 15, Sheet Harbour, Nova Scotia set up a reception to welcome him as he appeared in a story on national television.
When his mother Betty saw him on TV, she was worried by the fact Terry had lost so much weight and looked tired.
Soon after, she got a call from Terry, Doug had withdrawn and he worried about having to go it alone.
Betty and Rolly flew out to Halifax to meet the former best friends.
Doug and Terry were encouraged to not hold back.
There was a lot of swearing and yelling, as the two friends let the other have it.
The heated exchange straightened things out though.
Betty and Rolly had brokered peace as Doug and Terry understood each other better.
Five days later in Dartmouth, Terry gave an emotional thank you to his friend who had stuck by his side through the journey so far.
He also wrote in his diary.
“I did my speech and I couldn’t help but cry when I saw how Doug had to have courage to put up with and understand me when I’m tired and irritable.”
By then press coverage on his efforts had increased and he was becoming a minor celebrity.
In an interview with the Halifax Mail Star, Terry reiterated that the Marathon of Hope and running across Canada was not about fame or an ego trip, it was a personal challenge to raise as much money as he could.
He arrived at the third province in his journey on May 24, when he crossed the Northumberland Strait into Prince Edward Island.
He spent four days on the island, during which time he found out Newfoundland residents had continued to raise money and reached $40,000 total.
The news was spreading as was the support.
In Charlottetown, one woman ran out of her home in her nightgown and slippers just to see Terry and give him five dollars.
He then crossed r the Northumberland Strait into New Brunswick, and arrived in Moncton on May 28, 1980, one day after yours truly entered the world.
While I was in diapers, he spoke to 900 students at one school, had his leg repaired, and met with the media.
The next day, he ran 46 kilometres through thick humidity, then travelled by van 160 kilometres back in the direction he came to attend a fundraising dinner and press conference.
A few days later in Saint John, the Marathon of Hope crew increased by one when Terry’s younger brother Darrell arrived.
He wrote his finals early and skipped his graduation to be by his brother’s side.
After all this harebrained of doing the cross Canada tour a year earlier had been his.
It would be a life changing decision for all three men.
Not only was Darrell a much-needed buffer for Doug and Terry, but the time spent on the road became the proudest of his entire life.
By the time he joined the Marathon of Hope, Doug and Terry had settled into a routine.
For the first few days, he mostly watched and learned.
There was a rhythm of things, but he quickly realized that the best thing he could do was give Terry the emotional support he needed.
Terry wasn’t just running; he was constantly interacting with people as well.
Darrell said
“Once he was talking at a baseball game and everyone looked so interested and clapped for him, and the players came out to shake his hand.”
Terry was running an average of nearly 50 kilometres a day.
The weather was beautiful, crowds were increasing and the Canadian Cancer Society was starting to give him more support.
In Edmundston, New Brunswick, they sent a person to join the Marathon of Hope.
His name?
Bill Vigars.
He was an employee in the Ontario office of the Canadian Cancer Society.
He had driven from Toronto all night and was sleeping in his car outside their hotel when the boys came out in the morning.
Bill was there to take over promotion.
He knew how to build a story for the media to latch onto and he had unlimited energy.
He knew that the Marathon needed some big names for photo ops to drum up publicity.
So, who did Terry want to meet?
Hockey greats Bobby Orr and Darryl Sittler.
When Terry told him he wanted to raise $1 million in Ontario, Bill told him they would try for $10 million.
Bill said that although he had met Doug, Darrell and Terry in a hotel, he didn’t fully get to know Terry until he watched him run later that day.
Terry left New Brunswick and crossed into Quebec on June 10.
While Bill Vigars went ahead to Ontario, Terry, Doug and Darrell continued through the Marathon’s fifth province.
Very quickly they realized that most people had no idea what he was doing.
Several drivers assumed he was hitchhiking and pulled over to offer him a lift.
He wrote,
“We learned that there would be very little done in Quebec. Apparently, they can’t speak English. Maybe they also don’t get cancer.”
Language barriers may have caused fundraising efforts to slow down in Quebec, but that didn’t mean there weren’t highlights.
In Quebec City, he toured the Plains of Abraham. He also met Gerard Cote, a four-time Boston marathon winner in the 1940s and made the front page of Le Soleil.
Even with the press, in one 160-kilometre stretch he raised only $35.
He said, “It was very disappointing. It is not because they’re French and we’re English. Anyone can get cancer. I’m running across Canada and Quebec is a province in Canada. With me, it isn’t a political or racial thing, it’s just a human thing. Cancer can strike anybody.”
But Bill Vigars said Terry’s lack of French did play a part.
Once Terry reached Montreal, he stayed at the fancy Four Seasons Hotel.
The company’s president, Isadore Sharp, had lost his own son to cancer and became one of Terry’s most vocal supporters.
He arranged for Terry to stay at the hotel and also put out a full-page ad in newspapers across Canada announcing that the Four Seasons would donate two dollars for every mile Terry ran, and he challenged 999 corporations to do the same.
Sharp’s support was instrumental and greatly appreciated by Terry, but he was also very careful about any brand trying to use him for publicity.
He didn’t allow any corporate logos on the van, or his clothes.
For him, it was about raising money for cancer research, not helping companies sell products.
And once his day of rest in a $300 a night room was over, Terry got back on the road.
Ontario was firmly in his sights, and Bill Vigars wanted him to arrive in Ottawa on July 1, and he had a date to keep for Canada’s birthday.
By the time he began his run towards Ontario, the Marathon of Hope was growing and inspiring others.
The song, Run, Terry, Run, was composed by Vern Kennedy with all royalties going to the Canadian Cancer Society.
Another man sat in a vat of custard for hours to raise $900.
On June 28, 1980, Terry reached the Perley Bridge over the Ottawa River that separated Grenville, Quebec and Hawkesbury, Ontario.
As Terry approached, flashing lights and a police cruiser waited for him on the Ontario side.
Several hundred people had assembled and held a banner that read “Welcome Terry, You Can Do It”.
As soon as he crossed over the bridge, a brass band played, and thousands of balloons were released into the sky.
The crowd then erupted into a loud “Hip Hip Hooray!”
On hand to greet him was the local MPP Albert Belanger, and Ontario Premier Bill Davis.
Inside the community hall, he attended a press conference and spoke to the gathered crowd where he outlined why he was on the Marathon of Hope.
Waiting outside while he spoke was a minor league baseball team who pooled their money together to raise six dollars.
By now, the fundraising efforts were becoming a movement.
He would often need a police escort and communities asked more of him and his time. That night, Terry was relaxing after a large dinner when a representative with the Canadian Cancer Society told him he was expected at a fair in a nearby town.
Despite being exhausted, Terry had Doug drove him to 200 metres outside the village of Plantagenet, so people could see him run into the community.
He also made sure that the metres were marked so he wouldn’t have to run them again the next day.
Every day began at 4am and as he approached communities he received donations.
When they saw him coming, they ran into their homes to grab money for him.
On June 30, he reached Ottawa, where he was greeted by Governor General Edward Schreyer.
As he ran through Sparks Street Mall, people ran along with him.
Garth Walker of Mississauga and Jim Brown of Kingston had raised $50,000 by riding their bikes on their 450-kilometre bicycle journey through thunderstorms and heat so they could donate the money to Terry.
The next day, Canada Day, Terry went to Lansdowne Park where 16,000 CFL fans were in attendance for an exhibition game between the Ottawa Rough Riders and the Saskatchewan Roughriders,
He performed the ceremonial kickoff in front of the packed stadium and received a roaring standing ovation from the crowd, coaches, and players alike Bill Vigars said that response showed the Marathon of Hope had reached a new level.
In the evening, Terry drove back to Ottawa where he was taken to Parliament Hill to meet Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau.
Trudeau, who had just finished Question Period, seemed to be caught off-guard and because he had also been out of the country, did not know much about what Terry was doing.
Darrell Fox said,
“It was if Trudeau was talking to Terry and thinking about something else.”
Terry said,
“It was an honour to meet Mr. Trudeau who is a nice man. Unfortunately, he’s very busy and can’t run with me.”
Word of the interaction soon spread outside Parliament and Trudeau was criticized for not running even a few hundred metres with Terry.
Despite the disappointment Terry was excited for what was to come and to take advantage of fundraising opportunities, Terry agreed to add nearly 1,000 kilometres onto his journey.
Rather than follow the Trans-Canada Highway west, the Marathon of Hope would go south through t the largest and most populated cities in Canada.
Donations poured in.
If a bus driver saw Terry, they often pulled over and then walked up and down the aisles to get donations.
Even the Ontario Provincial Police escorts that kept Terry safe on the highway started to accept donations.
Bill Vigars said that one officer told him that he couldn’t take donations but that b y the second mile he was driving with his hat out the window.
Mary Hardisty was one of the officers who drove alongside the Marathon of Hope and she said.
“I drove behind Terry for six hours and I was amazed to think that in a relatively short time, he had made it to Ontario from Newfoundland. People driving in the opposite lane honked their support to Terry and he waved in acknowledgement.”
Terry was quickly becoming a national folk hero and Doug said,
“It was if he was a rock star. People were crowded around wanting to touch him. It was packed from one end to the other, and I couldn’t even see him when he started to leave. Women and girls, especially teenagers, were starting to chase him. I’m sure he started to wonder, ‘What’s happening?’.”
If Terry was surprised by the response he was getting in Ontario, he was about to be blown away by what was about to happen in Toronto.
On July 10, 1980, Terry had been running through Whitby when a blue limousine pulled up at the street corner.
He watched as his father, mother and sister stepped out.
He sped up to meet them that early in the morning, and as the sun rose over the horizon as he hugged his family tightly.
When they offered to drive him to the hotel for a rest, he refused and did the best he could to continue on his run.
He had to focus on the road as people cheered him on.
John and Edna Neale waited outside their home for two hours to see him go by.
A group of teenage girls ran beside him to get his autograph.
One cab driver woke his children up at 4:30 a.m. to wait for Terry because he knew that seeing him run would be something they would never forget.
When Doug drove past in his van, the father gave him $25.
At one point, a rough looking man in leather pulled up on his motorcycle, put a $20 bill through the window of the van, then drove off.
Bill Vigars said that he noticed that something had changed when Terry entered Ontario.
On July 11, he gave a moving speech in front of thousands of people at the Scarborough Civic Centre where he once again paid tribute to his friend Doug, thanked his brother Darrell and the OPP.
He said
“To me, being famous is not the idea of the run. The only important part is that cancer can be beaten.”
Later that day, Terry ran into downtown Toronto.
By then the blistering hot day had reached 30 degrees Celsius.
He was on his way to Nathan Phillip Square, and he caused gridlock as volunteers carried garbage bags to collect donations from thousands of people who were waiting to see Terry Fox.
Terry was joined by Darryl Sittler, the star player with the Toronto Maple Leafs and were greeted by 10,000 people when they arrived.
Al Waxman, the actor made famous on The King of Kensington, served as the master of ceremonies and called Terry the hero of all Canada.
When Sittler spoke to the crowd, he said that he had spent his life around athletes, but none had the courage or stamina of Terry Fox.
Then Terry spoke to the crowd and said
“It almost hurts me to walk down a road and have people grab my hand and ask for my autograph and not sit and talk. When I’m finished, I’m not going to be on the front page, but I’m going to be just as happy without the publicity. Those claps, take them for yourself. If you’ve given a dollar, you are part of the Marathon of Hope. That ovation was for you, wherever you are in Canada.”
That one day in Toronto raised an estimated $100,000.
On the following day, Terry flew to Niagara Falls where the mayor presented him with just $100.
That night, Terry was back in Toronto. As he ate his dinner at the world’s highest restaurant, located in the CN Tower.
Above him lights on the tower twinkled to spell “Terry Fox”.
Over the next several days, Terry continued his run through southern Ontario, by the he had been four months on the road. In Oakville, Darrell arrived ahead of Terry and found that the local Cancer Society had raised $8,600 for the Marathon by the time Terry arrived two hours later that total had risen to over $11,000.
But with all the good will came the blow back
Stories began to appear saying that Terry was sometimes irritable when people came up to him.
They often failed to mention that he was exhausted, and trying to focus on raising money.
The Toronto Sun ran a story about a woman named Marlene who was seen with Terry and ran a photo of her wiping sweat from his neck with a towel. His celebrity was big enough that rumours swirled.
Terry quickly realized that he had to ensure nothing distracted from the Marathon of Hope and from then on, he ensured he was always as pleasant as possible with anyone he met.
Bill Vigars said Terry was carrying an enormous pressure on his shoulders.
That pressure cooker wasn’t helped by the punishing 30+ heat, with high humidity.
It was torturous at times, but there were more highs than lows.
In Stratford, he was greeted by British actress Maggie Smith, who was performing at the Stratford Festival.
Yep, that is right. Dame Maggie Smith, the two-time Academy Award winning actress who later played Professor Minerva McGonagall in Harry Potter and The Dowager in Downton Abbey.
She met Terry Fox, gave him a kiss and presented him with a donation.
And as the days and kilometers clicked by The Marathon of Hope solidified into a movement.
The Canadian Cancer Society, which at first seemed skeptical of Terry and his run, had received $750,000 in donations so far and they needed volunteers just to keep counting.
By now Terry’s appearance was in high demand and that led to conflicting schedules, which meant that he was running every day, then driving to receptions all over southern Ontario, which robbed him of much needed rest time.
Eventually, he set a rule that only Bill Vigars could organize events to ensured that Terry was not spread too thin, while also managing the growing requests.
On July 23, Vigars managed to make one of Terry’s dreams come true.
That’s when he met his hockey idol Bobby Orr, in Vaughan as he presented Terry with a cheque for $25,000.
In a photo, Terry can be seen showing Bobby his artificial leg, while Bobby displays his knee that was covered in scars from many operations through the 1970s.
Terry called meeting Bobby Orr the highlight of the trip.
Five days later he celebrated his birthday in Gravenhurst where 2,000 people sang him happy birthday.
His gifts included a new artificial leg, a toilet seat with “To a good shit” inscribed on it, and a Playboy magazine.
I don’t know who oversaw the gifts but one of them was great, the other two were kind of weird.
Regardless, he soldiered on through the northwest on his journey into the Canadian Shield, along the way he met Bobby Orr’s father Doug in Parry Sound who presented him with Bobby’s 1976 Canada Cup sweater.
Around Blind River on Aug. 7, he reached the halfway point.
If you’ve ever driven it, you know the Canadian Shield is an imposing landscape of rising hills that challenge those who attempt to traverse them.
They pushed Terry to his limits, but it afforded him some of the most beautiful views of his entire journey.
On Aug. 12, the Canadian Cancer Society announced that the Marathon of Hope had raised a staggering $1.4 million and they were still counting.
By then, very few Canadians didn’t know the name Terry Fox which came with criticism.
Instead of cheering him on some carried signs that said “Give it up Terry” as he ran by.
The Globe and Mail ran a story that claimed he was a tyrant to those on the Marathon of Hope, and that he only embarked on the journey to prove a doctor wrong.
Terry said,
“They missed the point completely. If they are not positive about the run, I won’t talk to them. I’m not here to play games with the media.”
And his determination showed through his run… his courage couldn’t be denied, and people were reacting to that whether his critics liked it or not.
When a spring in his artificial leg snapped near Sault Ste. Marie, a local radio station sent out a broadcast asking for help.
An hour and a half later, a local welder repaired it.
But that wasn’t the biggest hurdle he would face in Northern Ontario.
That honour would go to the Montreal River Hill, which is a steep 3-kilometre incline with a 6% grade located about 110 kilometres north of Sault Ste. Marie on the way to Wawa.
When I drove across Canada this summer, I thought about Terry.
I was nervous enough descending it in my RV but to run up that hill is truly remarkable.
In the weeks leading up to it Terry wore a T-Shirt that said “Montreal River Here I Come” on the front and “I’ve Got You Beat” on the back.
When the day finally arrived, Terry ran up the hill without stopping.
When he got to the top, Bill Vigars was waiting for him and heard Terry say,
“Is that it?”
It was a triumphant moment for Terry, but it did little to soothe a constant worry.
He noticed he was coughing more.
It was a dry cough that seemed to come and go, but he was also more tired than usual.
On top of that, he had tendinitis in his ankle, which was treated with painkillers and a mandatory 36-hour rest.
But when he got back on the road, the going got tougher.
Gone were the heavily populated communities of southern Ontario.
Now there were hours between towns, as great stretches of the Canadian Shield loomed around him.
It was quieter, which at that time Terry likely enjoyed.
On Aug. 26, 1980, Terry reached Terrace Bay, Ontario, a small community on the shore of Lake Superior, about halfway between Wawa and Thunder Bay.
It was an important day, because Terry was about to see a new friend for the second time.
Greg Scott was ten years old and like Terry had battled bone cancer.
He lost his hair to chemotherapy, and had his leg amputated. The two first met when Terry was in Hamilton and had and instant connection.
When Terry continued on the Marathon of Hope, he made sure that Bill Vigars had updates on how Greg was doing.
The two would be meeting again in Terrace Bay
Terry wrote.
“Greg rode his bike behind me for about six miles, and it has to be the most inspirational moment I ever had.”
After Terry completed his run for the day, he and Greg swam in Jackfish Lake.
There was a crowd of people including news crews, and Terry gave an emotional speech about the courage Greg had shown.
What Terry knew but didn’t tell anyone was that Greg’s cancer had returned and that doctors had found a spot on his lung.
It was a stark reminder of how quickly things could change, and the following day was a tough one.
First, he said goodbye to Greg.
Then Terry set off to run through hilly terrain in crushing heat.
That evening, he read a column written by Doug Collins out of New Westminster, British Columbia claiming Terry didn’t run through Quebec, and instead rode in a car almost the whole way.
Terry was livid and punched the wall after reading it. He wrote,
“I nearly blew up! Broke my heart! I have a saddened and weakening attitude toward the media and press.”
Eventually, the newspaper printed a retraction, but it wasn’t the only challenge he would be facing because through it all Terry still wasn’t feeling quite right.
He woke up each day already tired and exhausted.
In the evenings, he felt sick.
He was also worried about running through winter in the Prairies.
Doug also noticed a change.
On days when Terry should have easily met his goals, he fell short.
Doug believed that Terry’s foot was sore again.
On Aug. 31, Terry wrote his diary,
“Today was all right. Started late and it was cold for the entire morning. Twelve, eleven. Nothing else happened.”
The following day, Sept. 1, 1980, Terry ran several kilometres towards Thunder Bay as people lined the highway and clapped.
In the opposite lane, a vehicle was approaching with a group of young men inside.
They were a band called Red Rider, driving from Winnipeg to Toronto for a gig.
One of the band members was wondering if he should give up on his rock and roll dreams.
As traffic slowed in front of their vehicle, he was irritated. He said,
“Then slowly, through the early morning greyness and light rain, I saw a police car on the other side of the road moving ever so slowly and just a ways behind was a figure. It took a minute or two to come into focus. It was a boy running with one leg.”
It was the most moving experience of his life, and he realized said,
“I was blessed to be able to write songs and play music, to make people laugh, smile, dance and feel a little less alone in the world. I never looked back.”
Today people know him as the eight-time Juno Award winning, Canadian Music Hall of Fame inductee, Tom Cochrane.
And maybe, a small part of his hit song, Life is a Highway, is inspired by the day he saw Terry Fox run.
But as Terry passed Tom on the road, he reached his 28th kilometre for the day.
He took a break, to deal with the incessant coughing but it didn’t help.
He kept coughing and then felt a pain that went from his neck to his chest.
When the coughing stopped, the pain continued.
He got out of the van and started to run again, hoping it would clear up, but it didn’t.
Fearing he had run his last kilometre of the Marathon of Hope; he got back to the van and asked Doug to drive him to the hospital.
Instead, they went to a motel and had a doctor visit him.
Upon an examination, the doctor said it was likely a lung infection, or perhaps a collapsed lung, but Terry knew something was wrong.
He went to the hospital for further tests, and his worst fears were confirmed.
It was cancer.
On Sept. 2, 1980, Terry was wheeled in a stretcher to an air ambulance for his flight back to British Columbia.
Prior to departing, Terry told news crews from his stretcher,
“I’ve got cancer in my lungs. We have to go home and do some more treatments. But all I can say is that if there is any way I can get out there and finish it, I will.”
Rolly and Betty Fox were by his side and Rolly said it was unfair that Terry should have cancer again, in the middle of his Marathon of Hope.
Terry replied
“I don’t feel that this is unfair. That is the thing about cancer. I’m not the only one, it happens all the time, to other people. I’m not special. This just intensifies what I did, it gives it more meaning, it’ll inspire more people.”
And inspire people he did….
The Marathon of Hope had raised $1.7 million.
Many others offered to finish the run for him, including the entire Toronto Maple Leafs team but Terry refused.
He wanted to finish the run himself.
Isadore Sharp, the founder and chairman of Four Seasons Hotels and Resorts sent Terry a telegram saying.
“The Marathon of Hope has just begun. You started it. We will not rest until your dream to find a cure for cancer is realized.”
One week later CTV held a nationwide telethon to support Terry and the Canadian Cancer Society.
John Denver, Elton John, Glen Campbell and Anne Murray all sang songs for him.
Handling the phones were famous Canadians like Darryl Sittler, Gordon Lightfoot and Ambassador Ken Taylor, fresh from saving Americans in Iran in The Canadian Caper.
Phones rang nonstop for five hours and by the time they were silent the night had fundraised over $10.5 million.
As part of the telethon, the British Columbia government put up $1 million to build a cancer institute in Terry’s name.
And the efforts didn’t stop there.
Across the nation, communities held fundraisers to raise whatever they could for Terry.
Teenagers in Toronto’s Forest Hill neighbourhood went door to door one afternoon and collected $600.
Staff at British Columbia’s Simon Fraser University raised $45,000 in an hour.
Strippers at one establishment gave their nightly earnings to the Canadian Cancer Society, while in British Columbia a group of children opened lemonade stands to accept donations.
Terry was so famous that he received hundreds of thousands of letters from around the world and most were just addressed to “Terry Fox, Canada”.
A few weeks later, Governor General Edward Schreyer arrived in Port Coquitlam to personally present Terry with the Order of Canada.
And then he was honoured with the Lou Marsh Award as Canada’s top athlete and was named Canada’s Newsmaker of the Year. Daryll Sitter also made sure to see Terry again when the Maple Leafs played in Vancouver.
By April 1981, $23 million had been raised, that was the same as one dollar for every Canadian in the country.
Because of Terry Fox, the National Cancer Institute’s research funds more than doubled.
Terry, meanwhile, continued to receive chemotherapy just as Pope John Paul II sent him a telegram saying he was praying for him.
Canada hoped that Terry could soon return to his Marathon.
The world was really hoping for a happy ending.
On June 28, 1981, the nation was robbed of that dream when Terry Fox died just before dawn.
In an unprecedented move for a non-politician, the Government of Canada ordered flags across the country to be lowered in his honour.
In the House of Commons, Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau said,
“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’s funeral was broadcast across Canada, and memorial services were held in communities nationwide, including on Parliament Hill.
Six weeks after Terry passed away, his friend Greg Scott, followed in his fate when he also lost his battle to cancer.
Through the grief Isadore Sharp kept his promise to Terry.
He was going to keep the dream alive of eradicating cancer.
And he did so by hosting the first Terry Fox Run in September 1981.
Across Canada, in 760 locations 300,000 people participated and in doing so raised $3.2 million.
Since then, The Terry Fox Run is still held every year, and it has spread far beyond Canada.
You can now take part in dozens of countries worldwide.
It is the largest single-day cancer fundraiser in the world and as of 2026, it has raised $1 billion for cancer research.
When Terry ended his run, activist and journalist June Callwood wrote a moving tribute to him that said,
“Fixed in our memory in this uneasy summer has been the sight of the one-legged youth, his face drained, hopping mile after mile on that punishing pavement. His quest grips us, his search for wholeness is a spiritual longing deep in us all. He asserts that he is unique. He has wonders locked within. He is more than you can see. He is not a wounded boy on an overcrowded planet. He matters.”
Terry Fox matters so much to Canadians that the list of monuments and memorials in his honour has its own dedicated Wikipedia page.
There are seven statues including the famous one near Thunder Bay, one where he started his run in St. John’s, one where he was supposed to end his run in Victoria.
A mountain and a provincial park are both named after him in British Columbia, along with about a dozen parks and roads.
There are 14 schools named for him, including his former high school.
In many ways he has become synonymous with Canada and has inspired so many others by his singular effort to persevere.
Rick Hansen embarked on his own epic journey when he began the Man in Motion Tour in 1985.
Inspired by his friend he raised $26 million to help people with disabilities over the course of 26 months and 40,000 kilometres around the world.
In a country that seems averse to making movies about its heroes, there are four movies about Terry Fox.
But perhaps one of the most fitting legacies for Terry Fox is not the monuments, statues or schools, it is about cancer treatments.
When Terry was diagnosed, he lost his leg.
Today, if someone is diagnosed with that same cancer they will not.
What had a 50/50 rate of survival when Terry was alive, now is 80 percent.
That is all thanks to the research and progress that has been funded in Terry Fox’s name,
That is the Terry Fox Effect.
Take it from me and thousands of others.
Terry Fox is the greatest Canadian who ever lived.
*sources*
- Forever Terry: A Legacy In Letters
- Terry: His Story by Leslie Scrivener
- Terry Fox Foundation: https://terryfox.org/terrys-story/
- Canadian Encyclopedia: https://thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/terry-fox
