Every year on this weekend for a generation Canadians go for a run.
Forty years ago a young man named Terry Fox, long since deservedly held up as a national hero, attempted to run east to west across the country. He was in remission from cancer, and had lost a leg to it, but set anyways out to raise money and awareness.
He made it about a third of the way before ending his run and passing away shortly after.
The Terry Fox run is usually held annually on this very weekend and brings out countless folks from across the country to continue the run in spirit and memory.
It was a virtual run this year thanks to a lingering global pandemic.
So. It was pretty much a normal Sunday Runday for us.
Except.
Except a couple years ago one of our run crew passed from cancer.
Her family put up a memorial bench in the local dog park in our river valley, a convenient distance away for a modest Sunday run.
We might not have specifically run for Terry Fox this morning, but I’d like to think that ten of us adventuring down to find the bench, running through the autumn trails, and finding the memorial for our fallen crewmate was kinda a parallel effort in the right spirit of the day.