Darrell Fox - Forever Terry : A Legacy in Letters

Darrell Fox, on behalf of the Fox family

WHILE I NO longer live in 1980, I go back there every day. Im always reflecting on the Marathon of Hope, reminiscing about being on the road with Terry and reliving the moments we had together. So much of that year feels like it was just yesterday. And yet forty years have passed. When James McCreath, a loyal Terry Fox Foundation supporter and friend, had the brilliant idea to celebrate this milestone anniversary by compiling a collection of letters honouring Terry, we as a family loved the idea and quickly pulled others on board. As the letters began to roll in, the entire book team was moved to tears. Im often in touch with a handful of the contributorsincluding Terrys friends Doug Alward and Rick Hansenbut seeing their words on the page was extremely powerful. Reading memories from the people who knew and loved Terry has been overwhelmingly meaningful. But reading how Terry affected the lives of people who were born after the Marathon of Hope has been nothing short of incredible. The letters in this book mean the world to my familyand I know they would mean a lot to Terry. Many of his heroes have said he was theirs, something that would thrill him to no end.

Putting this collection together took me back to 1980, and each and every letter allowed me to bask in the details of who Terry was and what he accomplished. As his younger brother, I admired many things about Terry, his humility perhaps most of all. The person who started the Marathon of Hope on April 12, 1980, was the same person who stopped outside of Thunder Bay on September 1, even with all the fame and affluence that was thrown his way. I saw it first-hand. Terry never changed, and his ability to stay grounded and focused was one of his greatest attributes. I have such admiration for him, so much that whenever I try to express in words what it was like to be part of the Marathon of Hope, I fall short. Maybe thats because I witnessed a miracle.

I was only seventeen when I joined Terry and his best friend Doug on the trip, and my first plane ride was to Saint John, New Brunswick, where I became the third member of the Marathon of Hope. Every day on the road was intense. It would start with Terry curled up in the fetal position in a sleeping bag on his bed, which was the vans pull-out couch. As Doug drove to the marker identifying the exact spot Terry finished running the day before, Terry was mentally preparing for yet another marathon. You could feel the tension in the van; words were rarely spoken. Terry set the tone for the day; Doug and I understood completely and respected this. I felt so much guilt every morning at five when Terry left the comforts of our van, stepped outside, and faced the darkness. I remained protected and warm inside, while Terry faced whatever elements the day had in store. We saw how every step hurt, and I will never know how he coped with the pain.