What's grander than finally convincing my brother to regularly lace up and run?
When he has become so enthused in the activity that he keeps me updated of his weekly mileage (and I can't help but compare it to mine). Maybe I'll lag way behind him in the next race; maybe he'll look so lean the next time I see him that I'll think I was the couch potato. I start to worry.
Now I've got another reason to continue pounding the pavement.
And they say worrying is bad for you.
