San Fermin in Pamplona

Well, we weren´t injured running with the bulls in Pamplona. This is probably due to the fact that we didn´t actually run with them. Tuesday afternoon after we arrived in Pamplona, Paul told me that after thinking about it, he didn´t think he wanted to run. Especially since this was at the beginning of the trip where we´d be walking the entire time. Any injury, even a twisted ankle could make quick work of us out there on the road. He thought there was just too much to lose if something were to happen to either of us. He was right, really. He asked me how badly I wanted to run. I thought for a moment. I was both excited and terrified at the prospect of being closed into a tiny street with a mess of people wearing white and red and a dozen angry bulls. I didn´t really want to do it by myself, but if Paul came with me...

We had already bought balcolny seats at an English language school to watch el Encierro, the name for the running of the bulls, from above Calle Estafeta for the following morning. If we watched and decided it was safe enough and we really wanted to run, we could postpone the start of our camino and come back the next morning.

At about 5 minutes to 8 in the morning, the barricaded street in front of our balcolny was slowly flooded with runners getting a head start on the bulls. People stretched and jumped around preparing themselves for the chaos that was about to take place. The air was thick with anticipation. A few minutes later a cannon sounded and the people on the street began to move, some running, the more daring jogging or walking hoping to get a little closer to the charging animals. After about 2 minutes another cannon sounded and the bulls were released. A TV behind our balcolny showed the news coverage of the Encierro so we were able to see the entire path of the bulls as they ran the gauntlet taunted by runners to what would be their final resting place. The folks in the front of the pack probably made it to the bull ring to safety without seeing a bull at all. Others in the back ran along side of the bulls, making a game of touching the bulls massive sides or holding on to their horns. People ran into each other and fell every possible way in the street. One bull decided a runner was in his way and promptly flung him against a wall with his horn. Another guy trying to climb a wall was pulled back into the street and under a bull. Bull testicles in his face, the guy clung to the beast´s legs for dear life. The bull tried to stomp him, but was eventually prodded along by the bull chasers. All of this happened in a matter of minutes.

I really didn´t understand how much I wanted to be down there running until I was not. Some of you will probably think I am crazy after the scene I just described, but I envied those people who stood there in anticipation waiting for everything to get started while I watched from the sidelines. Not so much the guy who got stomped on, but the group in the front we could see from our balcolny, the 3 women who braved it down there in a sea of men, the group of buddies from London who wore matching green shirts and took off awfully quickly when the cannon sounded, the young couple about my age who ventured to the front of the pack. They all found a way to have this experience that they will probably remember for the rest of their lives. They took a risk, but found a way to make it a smarter risk and were rewarded with a story that they will probably tell for the rest of their lives to their children and their grandchildren.

I felt a profound sadness sitting in our room that afternoon in the aftermath of San Fermin. I´m not sure it even had anything to do with the bulls exactly. I just felt I had made a choice that was at odds with the way I want to live my life. Do I really want to watch life go by safely perched on a balcolny from afar? Or do I want to take life by the horns? If I choose the latter, I may get a little bruised and beat up along the way, but at least I will then have battle scars to show off and I think be better for the wear.

Then I began thinking about the Camino and why Paul and I are here in Spain in the first place. To have an adventure, to do something that will challenge us both physically and mentally. I suppose deciding to walk 400 miles on your summer ¨vacation¨carrying an 18 lb. backpack is not exactly sitting on the sidelines.

We didn´t go back the second day to run with the bulls. We did what we set out to do, started our camino. I was really OK with that. If I´ve got something to prove to myself about taking risks to gain great rewards, it doesn't need to be on a street in Spain with wild bulls. There will be other bulls in other towns. Maybe next time someone else will be watching from the balcolny and I will be the one running by.

To Run or Not To Run?

So, now that we'll be in town for the festival, I have been having a mental debate with myself as to whether I actually want to get my running-challenged butt out there in the street with those scary horn wielding beasts...maybe I can wear some body armor with my red neckerchief.

Here's how the battle of my wits goes: I sort of want to run with the bulls, but on the other hand I think that is totally crazy. I could get trampled or my eye gouged out, not even be able to start the camino that we have planned so much for. BUT on the other hand where's my sense of adventure? It really is a once in a lifetime experience...

I turned to my girls on the Nest travel board hoping some of them could share their experiences. One of the girls came to my rescue and quelled some of my fears. She did the run in 2001 with some girlfriends and random Canadian guys whom they met in the bar the night before. They started about 1/2 a mile ahead of the bulls, got a two-minute warning to start running. Once they reached the stadium end point (where I've actually been before), they heaved themselves over the wall where they then had a great vantage point to watch the rest of the people and the bulls go by. She did say it was still scary as hell.

Scary as hell aside, getting a 1/2 mile head start sounds like the perfect way to run, but manage some of the risk. And probably help our Moms sleep better at night too.

Run Toro Run!

Last week in my TESL Assessment class the girl who sits next to me who always has interesting adventure and travel stories was talking about wanting to run with the bulls in Pamplona in July. July? My ears perked up. When in July? She wasn't sure, but I rushed staight home to my computer after class to find out when the San Fermin Festival is July 6-14!! I will finish teaching my summer class July 6th and the 8th is our estimated departure date for Espana!

Pamplona is actually a few cities on from Roncesvalles, the intended start of our camino route, but after talking with Paul, we decided to start from Pamplona so we can enjoy the festival for a few days and then take off. Plus, it turns out I need to be back a little earlier before the start of fall semester to do some training on some software I will be teaching with anyway. So now we are down to about 400 miles. That shaves off about 25 miles or so, but I figure we can make up at least a few miles on the bull route =).

After consulting my veteran peregrino friends on the Santiagobis group, I found that we can pick up our pilgrim credentials at either at the diocesan offices near the cathedral or the Albergue de peregrinos.