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Sees

Max Hill
The Peak (NUW)

Terence “Terry” Fox is the
closest thing our country
has to a national hero.

Think about that fora
minute. Our folk hero isn’t a
politician and reformer, like
George Washington in the
United States; nor the leader of
a widespread social movement,
like Mahatma Gandhi in India;
nor a warrior or a prophet, like
Joan of Arc in France. Where

other nations idolize big people

from big families occupying
big places in world history,
Canada has a suburban kid
from Port Coquitlam whose
heroism didn’t lie in organizing
the people, or conquering the
people, or even telling them

that’s what makes him great.

If you grew up in this
province like I did, you'll surely
remember the countless hours

every September to discussing

Terry’s legacy—his Marathon of : became the cultural icon he

Hope; his stubborn, unwavering : jg today, before his statue, in

dedication to the goal of raising mid-gait, stood in the Academic :
: Quadrangle he once walked
: through as a regular undergrad. :
: His mother convinced him

: to enrol in Simon Fraser

: University, where he chose to

: study kinesiology. He wanted

: to bea PE teacher—in another
: world, it’s easy to imagine him

money for cancer research in
the face of his own declining
health; his untimely death at
the age of 22.

I don’t mean to make you
relive this story. Terry’s tale
has been firmly and repeatedly
ingrained into the collective

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: consciousness of British
: Columbia; we’ve all heard it
: over and over again.

What we often miss out

on, though, is the portrait
what to do or how to think. And of Terry as he really was: not

: some heroic tbermensch or

: irreproachable deity, but a

: regular kid with a commitment
: to making the world we live ina :

of class time dedicated each and : better and healthier place.

Think of Terry before he

: coaching ninth graders to run
: laps in the mud and rain.

By all accounts, Terry was

a friendly, goofy kid with a

: passionate love for sports and

: competition. He would not

: have been unrecognizable as

: a university student to you or

: me. He earned a spot on the

: school’s basketball team during
: his junior year; after his cancer
: forced the amputation of his

: leg, he played on Canada’s

: wheelchair basketball team,

: and helped win them three

: titles between 1978-1980.

It was his experiences

during this period of his life,

: before he received surgery

: for the osteosarcoma which

: had spread in his knee,

: that inspired him to run his

: Marathon of Hope. His time

: in chemotherapy treatment

: inspired his deep empathy

: for other cancer survivors;

: his resolve to change the

: way that we think about and

: research cancer originated

: from his human need to reduce
: the suffering of others. He

: promised himself that, if he

: survived treatment, he would

: do everything he could to make
: life better for cancer sufferers

: around the world.

This is something we all

: do in our daily lives. We see

: systems that are broken, and
: people in need; we feel for

: them, and we want to help

: them, even if were not sure

Have an idea?

Contact: Natalie Serafini, Editor-in-Chief
M editor@theotherpress.ca

www. theotherpress.ca

 

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: how. It was Terry’s choice to

: do something about it, to

: find a way to make a lasting

: contribution to a cause he so

: believed in, that made him truly :
: great.

Terry trained for 14 months

before embarking on his now-

: legendary Marathon of Hope,

: and it must have a beena

: gruelling experience. He said

: that it took 20 minutes of

: running before the pain reached
: a threshold where he could :
: ignore it; his prosthetic running :
: leg gave him cuts, bruises, and

: blisters that took weeks to heal.

When he began his run in

April of 1980, he maintained

: that the public response should
: be focused solely on promoting
: cancer research; he shied away

: from media scrutiny, insisted

: that his corporate sponsors

: not make any profit off his

: marathon, and only attended

: events and promotions he felt

: would result in more donations
: to the cause. Until the spread of :
: cancer to his lungs forced him
: to end his run short, he never

: took a day off—even on his 22nd :
: birthday, which would be his
: last.

It’s easy to bristle at the

: story of a folk hero whose

: inspirational struggles seem

: cheesy and idealized, especially
: when schoolteachers and media :
: outlets have been forcing you to
: revisit the story every year since

: childhood.

a,

But there was plenty about

Terry that was subversive and
: challenging. He ignored the
: calls of doctors and friends who

told him he was endangering

: his own life. He refused to

: think of himself as “disabled,”
: and maintained that his life

: had become more rewarding

: since his amputation. Despite
: the immense toll his 143-days-
: straight marathon took on his
: physical and mental wellness,
: Terry never sought out any

personal attention or glory.
We should remember

Terry now, 34 years later, for his
: willpower, his success in uniting
: people towards a common

: goal of curing one of the most

: destructive and tenacious

: diseases in human history, and

: for his courage and kindness,

: even in his final moments. Each
: year, we run—like he did—to

: raise money for those who still

: suffer through surgeries and

: chemotherapy.

Ultimately, imagining

: Terry as an iconand nota
: human being takes away from

the real heroism of what he

: accomplished. It ignores the

: fact that Terry wasn’t born

: exceptional. He made a choice
: he felt was in the best interest
: of those he cared most about,

: and he didn’t waver once until

his disease forced him to step

: aside. That’s an example we
: could all learn from.