Three legged race

by Josh Dugan

What kind of energy drinks are those, anyway?

All the guys were taking their shirts and shoes off and running off across the lawn to join in the after-picnic games. “C'mon,” said Brad. “It's time for the three-legged race.”

I was sleepy from lunch, and wanted to stretch out on the lawn. “I'll watch,” I promised. That was fine with Brad, so off he went. It was a beautiful day, a little warm, so to give the guys a boost they were passing out cans of sports drinks. I could hear the hiss and pop of the can tops being opened, in the distance, as I lay on my back looking up at the leaves of the tall trees high above.

I guess I didn't realize I'd dozed, but what woke me up was the sound of the guys laughing and screaming cheering and getting louder, and when I realized it wasn't a dream I sat up. It didn't register right away what I was seeing, but when I took a second look what I saw gave me an immediate boner. Guys were running around barefoot in ripped jeans and shorts, shirtless and laughing.

What had started out as a regular three-legged race, with two guys running with a third leg created by tying two of their legs together, was now a real barefoot three-legged race, as the guys ran in relays with three real legs and three real feet of their own. The energy drinks had apparently worked, giving the guys so much energy they had third legs ripping through their pants.

Some had two left legs, some had two right legs, and some had a center leg with either a right or a left foot on it, but they were definitely athletic legs, all three of them, on all the guys. The guys were having the time of their lives, running easily on their three powerful legs, on their three grass-stained bare feet. They all looked taller somehow with three legs. I realized they really were taller, and broader-shouldered, too, as they ran sweating and laughing, playfully punching and shoving each other or wrestling, locking each other in three-legged leg locks while waiting for their turn to run the relay.

It was pandemonium, but it struck me as sexy, with all the third legs nakedly flashing among the other two legs and the tattered pants as the guys ran the relays and then rejoined the rest of the three-legged guys in cheering on the other three-legged runners. Gradually in the heat, guys were getting down to just their shorts or boxers, stretched or torn because of the new third legs. Eventually the noise died down except for the carrying of the winners on the bare shoulders of their relay team members amid cheers and the bobbing and waggling of the three bare feet of the winners borne aloft on the arms of their cheering teammates.

It was odd to watch the returning crowds of sweating, shirtless teammates as they carried the triumphant three legs of the winners on their shoulders, because I wasn't used to seeing so many bare feet among them. While the teammates' three legs moved with an athlete's naturalness, the fact that there were three of them, watching three bare feet plant themselves in a smooth, rhythmic sequence as they walked, was new and different, and oddly beautiful. Among the crowds of cheering guys there seemed to be hundreds of beautiful bare feet.

Everyone was glistening with sweat and happy and exhausted, as they came and sat down on the lawn bringing more thirst quenching drinks. You could tell the third legs were of interest, because as guys sat together cooling off with their refreshments they would keep looking at their three feet, or other guys' three feet, or a couple guys might start massaging each other's threesomes of feet while talking about other stuff.

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