Tripping Over Each Other

" Step...together...step...together...step...together...step... "

In the books I used to read as a kid, the three-legged race was always the last event of every turn-of-the-century church picnic or county fair.

Freckled girls in gingham and barefoot boys in overalls were tied together at the ankle; their senses heightened by the competition, the unexpected physical contact, and the promise of a blueberry pie for the winners to share.

The pairs lined up at one edge of the field, poised and eager; the crowd gathered, happy and full of fried chicken.
Doc Somebody, who drove a fine matched team of bays even though he had a Model T in the garage, tottered out to the middle of the field and started the race with a feeble but enthusiastic wave of his hankerchief.

The racers lept forward, in the lurching gait of the three-legged, laughing and calling to eachother to "step" with the outside feet..."together" with the inside feet..."step" outside... "together" inside..."step...together...step..."

Some teams made progress at first, but invariably ended up dropping in laughing, tangled heaps of elbows and apron strings. This tumble was usually the catalyst for romance between the twiggy girl with droopy kneesocks and the shy neighbor boy whose cowlick refused to lay straight, even on Sundays.

Ah, young love. Ah, church picnics. Ah, droopy kneesocks.

In my life, however, three-legged races have never been a catalyst for romance. In fact, they have only resulted in rope burns, twisted ankles, and grass stains.

But maybe love itself is a three-legged race. A lurching attempt of two peope in the general direction of shared future happiness. And blueberry pie.

It's difficult to find a balance of how far to reach on one's own (with the outside leg), and then to determine how quickly to move the inside leg so that each person is supported fully. In a relationship, the tasks required of each individual separately can cause an unsettling tug on the shared center support. And likewise, if the inside legs move too quickly or too far forward, or even not far enough, the outside independent legs can buckle.

And there are so many possible complications in three-legged racing! If one person gets distracted by a bird, or an untied shoelace, or by the progress of another team, down you go!

I feel as though my own three-legged race has been a bit off-kilter lately, like we're stepping with different size strides, or not getting our feet pointed in exactly the same direction. We're still running, or at least tripping over each other in a forward direction, but our calls of "step...together...step..." are getting lost in the prairie wind.

So we decide to get up again, to listen more closely, to patiently match pace, to laugh about the grass stains, to forgive the unintentional mis-step, to keep our eyes focused on the finish line.

The crowd cheers us on.

The blueberry pie will taste so good.