The little map my Map My Run GPS made one recent day looked like the track of a drunken snail. Hmm. I'm describing the appearance of the map here, but realize that "drunken snail" could also describe the way I meander when I am ambulatory.

I'm impulsive—can't resist veering onto unknown trails, paths or sidewalks that catch my eye. Running in a straight line is for sissies—I've certainly never run that way.

I started running when I was living in Key West, Florida, and accidentally bought a pair of running shoes. The year was 1976, and the running boom in America was in its infancy.

One day, I put my kids in the car and went to Sears to get some sneakers. Between trying to keep my two boys from running rampant in the aisles of Sears and attempting to select some shoes, I somehow made a purchase.

Once home, I opened the shoebox and had to grin. The sneakers were not made for sneaking. They were bright red and sported two snow white canvas stripes across each instep. These were running shoes!

The next afternoon, I hit the sidewalk in my new kicks. I started around the block, picking up speed and feeling my heart beat faster as I absorbed the magic of my new shoes. Like clouds!

When I rounded the final corner and reached my front door, I actually pumped my fists in the air and under my breath said, "Wow!"

My life had just changed, and I knew it. Fancy red shoes? Eat your heart out, Dorothy. Mine will take me way beyond the bounds of Kansas.

Fast forward to the present: my home base, West Sacramento. Last week, I put on my current "jogging" shoes — Saucony brand, not Sears — and did four-plus miles of the old heel-and-toe around my 'hood, including crossing the Deep Channel bridge.

My leap from sunny Key West to breezy West Sacramento has taken forty-four years. Then: married, restaurant owner, mother of two living in the town known as The Last Resort. Now: married for the second time, retired editor, and mom of two adult boys who live in L.A. and have their own families.

Through it all, I've kept running—never fast. In my 30s, my speediest times, I ran 10-minute miles. These days, it's more like 15- or 16-minute miles. But it's never has been about the speed—it's always been about the joy. Long may it wave.

~ Elaine Merrill