My brother, Brett, is seven years younger than I am. When I was six, my parents took me on a vacation to tell me Brett was coming. They made it an event. Mom was worried I was going to be upset. She wasn't sure how I would handle a new baby demanding her attention. But I was thrilled to tell her I would be the big protector.

As it turned out, Brett didn't need any protecting. He's a hearty boy. He's everything I had never been. I kept waiting for the day when Brett would come home from school crying and I would march over to some kid's house to teach him a lesson. It never happened. Brett didn't need me.

We're raised very differently. I was raised by my mother. Brett was more of a Dad's kid. He grew up wanting to hunt and play in the woods with guns. Everything Dad loved; Brett loved. Dogs. Sports cars. Brett wanted to be Dad.

When we became closer, Dad died. As soon as the nurse told me Dad had passed away, I bolted from my chair and ran to find Brett. He was in the waiting room of the hospital, pacing. I rushed up and hugged him. I was crying. He knew immediately what that meant. He sank to the floor.

I wanted to be the one who told Brett. I don't know exactly why. I just wanted it to be me; I wanted to be there for him. I had this feeling that for the first time in his life, he might really need his big brother.

Right before he died, Dad bought a brand-new pewter (青灰色的) Firebird. That car was how he showed Brett his deepest love. The problem was, after Dad died, we couldn't afford the car. The payment was too high, as was insuring (给…保险) it for a teenage boy. Mom told Brett we had to sell it, which was tough. Understanding, Brett gave the Firebird up. But it's another piece of Dad that had slipped away.

Having made money a year later, I was going home for Christmas, an idea in mind.

When people asked me which was the happiest of my life, I always thought back to that Christmas Eve.

A Great Coach in My Life

I started to love running at a young age. I loved to race my dad and my sister around the backyard. I couldn’t wait until I got older so I could run in the Olympics and win lots of medals.

One day Dad showed me an advertisement for a yearly race in a newspaper. “Would you be interested in entering this race?” he asked me. pointing to the advertisement. “Yes. of course.” I answered.

I spent the next few days practicing for my big race with Dad coaching me. He set up a table in the backyard so he could supply me with water and time me.

On the day of the race I spent a lot of the morning practicing. My nervous excitement gave me much energy.

When Dad and I arrived at the race. I registered and got a number to pin on my back. Just before the race began. Dad whispered in my ear, “Don’t use up all your energy at the beginning of the race. You need to have energy so you can speed up at the end.”

The starting whistle sounded. Following Dad’s advice. I didn’t run as fast as I could. Then the other runners started passing me, which made me nervous. I began to feel tired, and I’d only just reached the first bend in the track. I started slowing down and breathing harder.

Then I heard, “Come on. Kelly! You can do it! Keep running!”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Dad running beside me around the outside of the track.

I took a deep breath and tried to speed forward. Dad continued running beside me. shouting encouraging words.