I pulled my jacket tight against the brisk morning air as a solitary figure appeared on the horizon, silhouetted against the sunrise over the Atlantic coast. Standing at this spot in St. John’s, Newfoundland—where Terry Fox dipped his artificial leg into the ocean on April 12, 1980—I found myself transported across time. Forty-five years have passed since that pivotal moment, yet the ripples of Terry’s Marathon of Hope continue to wash over our national consciousness.
“People always ask why Terry’s story endures,” says filmmaker Sarah Richardson, whose documentary “Run, Terry, Run” premieres next month at the Toronto International Film Festival. “It’s because authenticity can’t be manufactured. In an age of carefully curated public personas, Terry’s raw determination and complete lack of pretense still feels revolutionary.”
Richardson’s film arrives at a poignant moment. Next year marks the 45th anniversary of Fox’s Marathon of Hope, which began when the 21-year-old amputee and cancer survivor set out to run across Canada to raise money for cancer research. His goal—running the equivalent of a marathon every day on one prosthetic leg—remains as staggering today as it was then.
I’ve spent weeks speaking with those who knew Terry and those who only know his legacy. What emerges is a portrait far more nuanced than the bronze statues erected in his honor across the country.
Leslie Scrivener, who covered Fox’s journey for the Toronto Star and later wrote the definitive biography “Terry Fox: His Story,” shared insights rarely discussed in the sanitized hero narrative. “Terry wasn’t a saint. He was stubborn, sometimes short-tempered, and incredibly determined. Those human qualities made his achievement all the more remarkable.”
The documentary features previously unreleased home videos and interviews with Fox’s family, revealing tender moments alongside the public perseverance. His brother Darrell, now a senior advisor to the Terry Fox Foundation, explained, “People forget Terry was just a kid with an audacious dream. He wasn’t planning to become a Canadian icon. He just wanted to make a difference in cancer research.”
That difference has been profound. The Terry Fox Foundation has raised over $850 million for cancer research since 1980, funding breakthroughs that have transformed survival rates for osteosarcoma—the cancer that claimed Terry’s life—and countless other forms of the disease.
Dr. Victor Ling, President and Scientific Director of the Terry Fox Research Institute, puts this impact into perspective: “When Terry was diagnosed, the survival rate for osteosarcoma was about 20%. Today, it’s closer to 80%. That transformation represents thousands of lives extended or saved, and Terry’s fundraising played a crucial role.”
What strikes me most while watching early footage is how different Terry’s journey would be in our social media age. There were no viral videos, no Instagram updates, no real-time tracking apps—just a young man running along the Trans-Canada Highway, often alone for hours with his thoughts and his pain.
“Terry would stop and speak at schools where maybe 20 kids showed up,” recounts Bill Vigars, who managed public relations for the Marathon of Hope. “He’d give the same passionate speech he gave to thousands. The size of the audience never mattered to him.”
The documentary doesn’t shy away from difficult moments. Richardson includes footage of Terry struggling with his prosthetic leg, scenes of him arguing with support team members, and the heartbreaking September day when chest pains forced him to stop running outside Thunder Bay, Ontario. Cancer had spread to his lungs.
“We wanted to show Terry’s humanity,” Richardson explains as we walk along the reconstructed Marathon of Hope route in Port Coquitlam, B.C., where Fox grew up. “The superhuman elements of his story only make sense when you understand the very human struggles beneath them.”
The film also explores Fox’s complicated relationship with newfound fame. Footage shows him visibly uncomfortable during television appearances, yet resolute in using media attention to further his cause. In one newly uncovered interview, Terry admits: “I don’t want to be remembered for being a good runner or even a good person. I just want people to remember the cause.”
Indigenous communities along the Marathon of Hope route share previously untold stories of their encounters with Fox. “He stopped and listened,” says Elder Robert Joseph from Manitoulin Island, who appears in the documentary. “Many runners would have kept going, but Terry understood that connecting with people was as important as covering ground.”
What makes the documentary particularly timely is its exploration of how Fox’s legacy continues to evolve. Today’s Terry Fox Run happens in more than 60 countries worldwide. Schools named after him span the globe. The annual fundraising event has transcended its Canadian origins to become a worldwide movement.
Perhaps most striking is the diversity of Canadians who identify with Terry’s story. Recent immigrants, Indigenous youth, people with disabilities, and cancer survivors all find different resonance in his journey.
“Terry belongs to everyone now,” his mother Betty Fox said before her passing in 2011—a sentiment captured beautifully in the film’s emotional final sequence.
As I leave the memorial in St. John’s, a school group arrives, children bundled against the coastal wind. Their teacher speaks about determination and courage, but what captivates the students most is learning that Terry was once just like them—a regular kid who decided to do something extraordinary.
And that may be Terry Fox’s most enduring gift: showing us that heroism isn’t reserved for superhumans, but available to anyone with enough heart to take that first difficult step.
Richardson’s documentary “Run, Terry, Run” begins its national screening tour in January 2025, coinciding with the 45th anniversary of the Marathon of Hope. For Canadians still drawing inspiration from Terry’s journey, it offers both a celebration and a challenge—reminding us that one person’s commitment to a cause can indeed change the world, one painful, persistent step at a time.
