Lately I've been running. I started for two reasons.

One, baking belly up on a beach, I had the sudden urge for a cold beer. Waiters must have been taking a break, so I decided to get it myself. On my way to the snack shack, I noticed a group of young men carrying on like young men do, pestering anything female that walked past. And me in a bikini. I thought maybe I'd better go back and throw on a towel or something. But no, I'd put up with a little harassment.

Not a whistle. Not a remark. In fact, I was totally ignored.

The second reason is that I read in a magazine that a good predictor of how fit you will be in your old age is what you do in your thirties. That was a major bummer.

I had planned to spend my old age in various scientific pursuits . . . perfecting ham and cheese sandwiches, for example, or doing sleep research and determining once and for all whether champagne goes better with cheese and crackers or pork rinds. If I followed that plan, according to what I read, all I would be good for later in life would be as a sandbag in case of flooding. So I had to alter those plans. Not throw them out completely, mind you--the champagne research is far too important to simply abandon--but modify them somewhat. The only modification that made sense was to find a way to exercise regularly.

For some out-of-shape women, that might have meant playing basketball or chasing tennis balls. But not me. I was exposed to all that nonsense in college and developed a severe case of not liking to be laughed at. So, no, I would run.

If you want to get some regular exercise, you don't have to join a sisterhood of sports nuts. You don't have to join the in- crowd of in-line skaters, either. Besides, there is a beauty at six miles per hour that comes in no other way.

Running bestows its physical benefits on us all. Unlike other activities, the experience we get from running is more than physical. Curiously, there is something about it that hones the mind as well.

Beauty, surprise, adventure, and nostalgia are some hallmarks of a great run, including the easiest of them all, a trot along the sidewalks of your own neighborhood. Some of the finest, most contemplative running is on the streets where you live. The atmosphere tends to be relaxed and friendly, and there is a people-watching aspect to it that is second to none. Diverse body shapes excite the imagination. The runner's mind expands and wanders through the neighborhood of humanity. You will see other runners with better body shapes than your own, and you will be inspired to greater effort. You will find others who permit you a small flush of superiority, knowing that you have at least made some measure of progress.

If you think nostalgia isn't what it used to be, trot through a park or playground, where the kids will remind you of what it was like to have a never-ending burst of energy. You will see girls and boys climbing and doing cartwheels as if nothing else matters. It will bring tears to your eyes.

There is something special about running. If you never run, you will never find it. You will never hear the laughter of unguarded moments or snatches of unrehearsed song.

So, instead of lounging around on a beach drinking beer, think about all that awaits you if you simply get up off your widening butt and go for a trot. There is, without a doubt, a beauty at six miles per hour that comes in no other way.

Just tell yourself: "Feet, let's go!"

Janett Grady lives and runs in Alaska. She reports that, with $4.00 a gallon for gas, her six-mile trots into town and back are keeping her fit in more ways than one.