"Pamplona" from A Life Deliberate by Christopher Gutierrez
i hunched down to tie my shoes laces in double knots. i didnt come all the way out here to have something as ridiculous as a shoe falling off be responsible for what could possibly cost me my life.
i touched the uneven cobblestone streets that have been host to this event for hundreds of years coated with a thin and wet layer of fresh wine and i wished myself good luck. you could smell the sweet aroma of years worth of grapes if you got close enough. i stood up and looked up at the clock on the ancient building behind me, it read 7:30 a.m. i heard someone speaking english along side of me.
"did you hear about what happened yesterday?"
"yeah, it was insane. i saw him get hit. i dont think he saw it coming."
"the papers this morning said he was paralyzed from the waist down."
i turned and looked over my shoulder, "hey, where are you guys from?"
a wide-eyed dark haired kid looks at me and with a smile that distinctly said he was excited to speak to a fellow american, answered, "texas. and you?"
"chicago." i said. "so you saw the guy go down?"
"yeah dude, it was sick. he was in the ring and didnt even see the bull coming, got him right from behind. he flew up in the air like 3 feet and the bull smashed him again on his way down then he landed on his head. he hit so hard everyone in the stands knew he was fucked."
"so you didnt do the run yesterday?"
"nah, we wanted to watch it first." the dark haired kid said as he thumbed over his shoulder at his friend with the baseball hat and obnoxious sideburns.
"dude, im so fucking nervous right now." sideburns says to me with a trembling smile.
i didnt have the heart to say to agree but to say that i was nervous would have been a massive understatement.
the day before i had taken two trains, two metro trains and a nail biting hour long bus ride along the steep cliffs of the pyrenees mountains just get to the plaza in northern spain where my feet now stood. all alone, i navigated the foreign lands of western europe in order to throw my life in front of a dozen wild and angry full sized bulls and play the odds. just like ernest hemmingway had done 80 years before me.
i had watched a documentary on the festival of san fermin on the history channel almost a decade earlier. i used their wild and exhilarating tales of drunken machismo and the elation of staring death in the face and living to tell about it to motivate me to hop on a plane and embark to what would be my mecca. it that 'celebration of life in the midst of possible death' that drew me in. the program also told the stories of those who did not make it, the ones trampled or gored by the sharp bulls horns that spilled their guts on to the stone streets of pamplona. it was after that i knew i had to go.
immediately following the program, i turned off the television, pulled out a small rectangle of paper, grabbed a pen a began to write my "things to do before i die" list. a list comprised of goals that i felt i was put on this earth to accomplish. no matter how insignificant to unachievable, i wrote everything down, folded the paper in half and have kept it in my wallet as inspiration ever since. today was the day i was hoping to cross off what held the number one spot, or die trying.
i turned to my new texas friends and said, "ok, i wont lie. im so nervous my teeth are chatttering."
sideburns says, "YO, me too. are your hands cold and clammy?"
without a word, i take my hands and grab his arm, "ew dude, theyre so slimy." we laugh in nervous agreement.
"once you hear the first burst of the firework in the sky, that signifies that they have opened the gate to allow the bulls on to the street." the dark haired kid said. "the second burst means they're actually ON the street. yesterday it happened so quickly we didnt even hear the second burst so just keep an eye on the movement of the crowd." this was useful information due to the fact that we were surrounded by thousands of people jammed into the 15 feet wide streets of pamplona, all built before the invention of cars, but today were jammed with thousands of drunken men from all over the world, here to test their fate. with the amount of people and the tight corners of the run, i figured we wouldnt even be able to see the bulls until they were practically on top of us and even then, i couldnt imagine how i was going to actually 'run' anywhere without trampling everyone within my path. i looked up and saw the clock read 7:45, i thought, "well, ill have answers to all of these questions in 15 minutes."
"is it me or is this the longest 15 minutes of all time?" sideburns asks.
the dark haired kid and i laugh and agree
"so are you going to stay in the ring?" sideburns asks.
"what are you talking about?
"well, the run ends in the ring with everyone pouring inside. there they corral the bulls then release two at a time to charge back in after everyone left in the ring."
"but can i get out of the ring?" i ask.
"yeah, you just have to jump the barricade on the sides, but traditionally its looked down upon. they see it as not having done the complete run and is seen as showing a 'lack of man-hood'."
shit. not only was i going to have to run with the bulls, i was going to be held captive for who knows how long in a ring with a bunch of confused two ton animals with foot long horns.
"yo, get to the sides, here come the cops," sideburns says as a group of cranky policemen come charging through the center of the crowd. "they're pushing the bulk of the people forward in order to thin out the crowd."
"fuck, this is getting intense." i say as im tripping over the men surrounding me.
"dude, five more minutes."
i look back up at the clock and it reads 7:57. the crowd begins to be overcome with an electric intensity. you can feel it in the air, like the moments before you know a fight is going to break out. the chants become louder, "ole', ole'ole' oleee'." the mass of spectators along the wooden fence barrier begins clapping and waving red flags, the crowd begins to sway back and forth, knocking people to the ground as if we're all front row at a sold out concert. i look to my texas friends and scream over the mass hysteria, "hey man, it was nice meeting you...good luck." i say with a friendly pat on the back."
swaying along and trying to hold his footing, sideburns yells, "yeah man, ill see you in the ring. remember, if you fall, STAY DOWN and keep your head covered, better to be trampled than be gored."
laughing i can see him fall back into the crowd, swallowed by the sea of white and red.
then it hit me, the icy cold shallow breaths. they overtake my lungs and for a moment the right side of my brain beings to scream at me, "dude, what the fuck are you doing?!? you could DIE here, this is totally avoidable."
out loud i yell, "fuck you, i didnt spend thousands of dollars and travel half way across the planet to NOT do this. you hold your ground you pussy." luckily, the sound of thousands of drunk people at 8am cant make out a word of my frantic english.
BOOM.
fuck. was that the first...?
BOOM.
oh fuck, the bulls are on the street.
my positioning and the surge of the crowd have pushed me a few blocks up into the course and i know that i have less than a minute before the bulls are right beside me. before i can think, the mass begins to push me forward. uncontrollably, i am forced to begin running or be trampled by thousands. my legs are barely touching the ground, i am kept upright by the surge of people shoving me forward. i begin to push and shove my way to the side of the street in order to get my baring. with my body tilted sideways and following the flow, i maneuver through the rushing stream of white and red and grab ahold of the ledge on the corner of a building. i flatten my body up against the wall so to make myself as flat as possible in order to make room for the flood of the rushing crowd. i look to the building across from where im standing and it reads 'p. ghutuyi'.
"oh fuck." i scream. im at whats known as 'dead mans corner'.
this is the corner known for where the bulls all collide in to the wall unable to make such a tight right turn. from legend, it is unwise to stand here because when the bulls slide and smash into the wooden corner, they become disorientated and seperate from the herd, making them nervous and agitated. they then get back up and attempt to trample the people standing closest to them. which at this very second, would be me.
i turn to my right as to run and there is a virtual wall of people not moving, just as i begin to panic there is a surge in the crowd. one like ive never seen. people are sprinting so fast in front of my face i cant make out shapes. it looks like a waterfall of red and white. the mass is rushing so quickly jumping in and going with the flow isnt an option. in the distance i hear it, "clop clop clop."
my eyes widen and my mouth goes dry. i feel the blood leave my face and my head and shoulders go cold. the flow of people slow to a trickle minus a few sprinters looking backwards over their shoulders, neck creening back and eyes wide as saucers. as i turn my head to my left, i make out the image of a black bull running at what must have been twice as fast as ive ever run in my entire life. my breathing ceases. never has fear ever been so personified in me at that very second.
i froze.
"BAM!" i watched as the bull, the size of a small car crashes into the wooden wall. immediately following him were two others of the same size and stature. the first bull attempts to stand when two larger brown and tan bulls collide with him knocking the first bull on its side. im frozen.
the world is slow and silent. i see the faces scream past my face and i cant take my eyes off off the muscles on the back of the black bull. i can see every muscle striation, how the hair lays on its back, the gouges in the horns and the glassy eyeballs of this massive creature. my brain yells, "RUN! you stupid motherfucker." but i cant. i am so entranced with the sheer magnitude of power on display in front of me, i cant even think to exhale. i cant shake my eyes, like the moments before a car crash or a punch to the face, the trance is pure and visceral terror.
as if all at once, all five bulls stand and look my way. i am no more than eight feet from terrified and crazed bulls that want to stab, gore and kill everything within their path...and i am standing directly in front of them.
i shake my face back and forth to wake myself from the daze and the childlike panic fills my heart and my legs with adrenaline and i begin to run too fast for my body, like a scooby-doo cartoon. instantly i fall to my hands and my knees.
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!" i scream, looking over my shoulder to the left as i see the faces of three bulls disappear and are now replaced with six foot long ivory horns. its in these precise seconds when the seriousness of the situation dawn upon me.
this IS my life. there are very few moments when each and every emotion and action are pure and uncalculated and made strictly upon survival. this was one of those moments. the moment where i was literally inches away from possible death.
"GET THE FUCK OFF ME!" i scream as i shove the people falling on top of me to the sides.
my feet push off of something solid yet soft and i look between my legs and notice a layer grown men face down on the street, people are using them to get their footing and push off. i included. for a moment a wave of empathy overtakes me and i think about how in the face of this mayhem and chaos i should help out these people in need. as im looking at their faces of agony, i see over their shoulders the horns of the three bulls charging directly at us.
the screams of terror that emanate from my lungs are woman-like and shrill. the kind of blood-curtiling scream that comes from your backbone and rattles your throat. i shove forward, using my adrenaline induced power to throw men like bean bags, i slip and fall again, in teeth clenched horror i claw at the shirts of some balding men in front of me, throw them to the ground and power sprint my way through the carnage right down the middle of the street.
i am in full on sprint now with very few people around me. as i look over my shoulder to locate the bulls i see a man make a desperate attempt to jump through the fence that seperates the runners and bulls from the spectators but only to be shoved, face first back into the fleeing drunken and bloody mass by none other than a poilceman. this is no longer fun. im not thinking about 'a list' or an awesome tale to tell my friends back home, the fear that now grips me is making my teeth chatter and my heart beat so hard my eyeballs feel like they're going to burst. before i get the chance to let the tears of fright fall i feel a hot wind pass my face. standing shoulder to shoulder with me are the three black bulls. only two feet away are their horns jutting forward like sabers, searching to impale the next person who makes the mistake of being too close. like a spring, i launch off the street and onto the sidewalk.
the combination of early morning air, adrenaline, terror and sprinting have now turned my lungs to salt vapor and i am now desperately looking for a recessed doorway to hide in. each one i pass is filled with at least three people. while the three black bulls have passed me, i am certain the two brown bulls have not passed by me yet. its not knowing where they are that powers my strides.
i find a doorway with one middle aged greek man. i leap in the foot deep recession and i make my body flat against the door.
"oh shit, here they come." i yell to the man.
here, i have a vantage point. i am on top of the incline of the street and i can see the hot breath of the huffing bulls as they run directly up the center of the street. i dont have time to pray, i think, "please please do not see me and stab me in the guts with your horns." with a 'whoosh' they pass.
i take a deep breath, smile and say, "well shit, you're not gonna live forever. get in the game and make this worth it." and i jump in right behind the bulls, chasing them in the direction of the ring. following them up the street i can see the massive hooves clomp and slip on the slippery stones beneath them, the people in front of them jump like terrified rabbits, leaping against buildings and behind one another and i follow the bulls up the street.
the bulls run faster than i ever could and they lose me, but i still continue to run because i know there are still more bulls behind me somewhere. we round the last curve and i look to my left and see the statue of Hemmingway and i say, "just like you, old man."
following the crowd around the turn we make our way down the street and into the dark corridor that leads into the stadium. i am quickly approaching a piles of about fifty bodies, some limp, some bloody, most struggling to stand but with the rush of thousands of drunken men running full speed and twelve startled bulls, they dont stand a chance. using my small stature to my advantage, i bob and weave my way through the unlucky and run through the archway. when i emerge through the other side i am immediately blinded by the light that was blocked by the narrow alleyway. i hear the roar of the spectators in the stands. i put my hand up to my face to shield the morning sun and i see every seat in the stadium is filled and standing and is cheering us on. i stop running, look down and note that i am now standing in sand. i wipe the sweat from my brow and say, "dude, you did it and you lived."
i do a quick body check to make sure everything is where it should be. other than a few cuts, scrapes and bruises, i seem to be fine. but my celebratory mood is short lived as i hear the slam of the stadium gates locking us into the center of the arena. many people panic and scramble to the sides and jump the five foot wooden ledge and i remember, shit, this isnt over just yet. the remainder of bulls are corralled by handlers with long green sticks into a pen area and a cheer comes from the spectators, all of us runners look to one another and smile hug each other, congratulate one another on surviving this far and wish each other good luck. the mood on the inside of the arena is tense but calm as we await the two bulls to be unleashed upon us. a small group of runners has amassed at the opening of the corral where they sit, indian style waiting. i look to a guy i hear speak with an australian accent and say, "what are they doing?"
"man, those guys are crazy." he says hands on his knees panting, "they sit and wait there for the bull to come out. its like theyre playing a game of chicken."
"shut the fuck up, are you serious?" i say just as the doors fly open and two bulls literally fly out of the pen, leaping four hooves in the air over the maniacs sitting. "OLE'" the arena roars as the bulls go running wildly. some of the men are trampled immediately. i rush to the side as the stampede rushes in all directions. while there is a significant decrease in runners, the arena is still packed, so much so that we cant see over each other and where it wouldnt be so much of a problem before in the streets because the bulls want to get from point A to point B, the bulls now have no where to go nor are they with the herd, they are panic-stricken and nervous. runners surround the bulls and taunt them with red shirts or rolled up newpapers. the bulls make quick turns and run after the daring. most people are quick enough to avoid the sharp horns, some are not. i see a middle aged spanish man get cocky and slap the bull on its hind quarter. the bull snaps into action and drives directly into the mans knees, sending him toppling forward and onto the bull. the bull then throws the man upward into the air about six feet, as he comes down the bull thrashes its head upward once again, smashing its massive head and horns into the mans mid-section. he falls limp in the sand. the bull then begins grinding its horns into the unconscious mans back and sides. its an out of body experience. to see a man get smashed and gored and wasted in front of thousands of spectators whos bloodlust cheers this on is overwhelming. this is not fun anymore. this is not a sport. this is danger and horror. and i want out but my head keeps telling me, "see, this is what you wanted, now finish it."
so i stay.
they corral the bulls and release two more bulls. these two are far more intense and agitated and quickly begin running circles around the ring. no one can keep an eye on where they are. there is so much confusion within the crowd people are shoving and yelling at one another. anarchy sets in and people fall and get smashed from behind when they lose sight of the bulls. i stand trembling in the middle of the ring surrounded by the drunken mass. everyone is on guard, arms stretched out at our sides, ready to jump left or right like offensive linemen. i only know the bull is coming when the person in front of me does and the person in front of him and so forth. its nerve-wracking, like when you're in a pitch dark haunted house and you know someone is going to come and jump out to scare you but its the anticipation kills you. this was what it was like for 35 minutes. coming inches from death and injury. full sized animals with the capability of ending your life running circles around you for pure entertainment. my nerves couldnt take it anymore. then i hear it.
the final explosion of fireworks, signifying the end of the run for the day.
a long and extended cheer roars through the stands and my dirt and blood covered brothers. a relief and happiness rushes over me that one can only get when he knows he is out of harms way. i turn and i hug a stranger. then another and another. we out of breath and we smell but we were in it together. all of us. experiencing real visceral emotion. it was an test of pride, perseverance, stamina and heart peppered with mayhem and stupidity. but it was real and pure and it was an adventure that was mine forever. i smiled at the crowd and raised my arms to the sun. the dust was still settling on my face and sticking to my sweat. i breathed it in.
the sweat.
the stench of animal.
the dusty arena.
the hearts of thousands of fools.
i wanted to remember this. this moment. this very second that i made this absurd dream a reality. i thought about what it took to get me to that very spot. to that sandcovered floor in spain. by myself. by my own accord. about how life takes its shots and sends its armies of discouragment and procrastination to attack our lives so that we live safe and mundane. about how those armies win most of the time. about how responsibilities and death and cancer and insurmountable odds prevent us from living with the vigor we so rightfully deserve. because this world is ours for the taking and most people live comfortable and discreet lives that dont make much noise or kick up much dirt and about how this was one of the few opportunities that those armies turned their backs on and let me win.
i dropped down to one knee. i looked around at the faces i knew i would never see again and i grabbed a handful of sand and shoved it into my pocket.
i couldnt stop smiling as i walked out of the arena that day because i knew i had a handful of memories that no one could take away from me in my right pocket. and a list that now had an open spot in my left.
i hunched down to tie my shoes laces in double knots. i didnt come all the way out here to have something as ridiculous as a shoe falling off be responsible for what could possibly cost me my life.
i touched the uneven cobblestone streets that have been host to this event for hundreds of years coated with a thin and wet layer of fresh wine and i wished myself good luck. you could smell the sweet aroma of years worth of grapes if you got close enough. i stood up and looked up at the clock on the ancient building behind me, it read 7:30 a.m. i heard someone speaking english along side of me.
"did you hear about what happened yesterday?"
"yeah, it was insane. i saw him get hit. i dont think he saw it coming."
"the papers this morning said he was paralyzed from the waist down."
i turned and looked over my shoulder, "hey, where are you guys from?"
a wide-eyed dark haired kid looks at me and with a smile that distinctly said he was excited to speak to a fellow american, answered, "texas. and you?"
"chicago." i said. "so you saw the guy go down?"
"yeah dude, it was sick. he was in the ring and didnt even see the bull coming, got him right from behind. he flew up in the air like 3 feet and the bull smashed him again on his way down then he landed on his head. he hit so hard everyone in the stands knew he was fucked."
"so you didnt do the run yesterday?"
"nah, we wanted to watch it first." the dark haired kid said as he thumbed over his shoulder at his friend with the baseball hat and obnoxious sideburns.
"dude, im so fucking nervous right now." sideburns says to me with a trembling smile.
i didnt have the heart to say to agree but to say that i was nervous would have been a massive understatement.
the day before i had taken two trains, two metro trains and a nail biting hour long bus ride along the steep cliffs of the pyrenees mountains just get to the plaza in northern spain where my feet now stood. all alone, i navigated the foreign lands of western europe in order to throw my life in front of a dozen wild and angry full sized bulls and play the odds. just like ernest hemmingway had done 80 years before me.
i had watched a documentary on the festival of san fermin on the history channel almost a decade earlier. i used their wild and exhilarating tales of drunken machismo and the elation of staring death in the face and living to tell about it to motivate me to hop on a plane and embark to what would be my mecca. it that 'celebration of life in the midst of possible death' that drew me in. the program also told the stories of those who did not make it, the ones trampled or gored by the sharp bulls horns that spilled their guts on to the stone streets of pamplona. it was after that i knew i had to go.
immediately following the program, i turned off the television, pulled out a small rectangle of paper, grabbed a pen a began to write my "things to do before i die" list. a list comprised of goals that i felt i was put on this earth to accomplish. no matter how insignificant to unachievable, i wrote everything down, folded the paper in half and have kept it in my wallet as inspiration ever since. today was the day i was hoping to cross off what held the number one spot, or die trying.
i turned to my new texas friends and said, "ok, i wont lie. im so nervous my teeth are chatttering."
sideburns says, "YO, me too. are your hands cold and clammy?"
without a word, i take my hands and grab his arm, "ew dude, theyre so slimy." we laugh in nervous agreement.
"once you hear the first burst of the firework in the sky, that signifies that they have opened the gate to allow the bulls on to the street." the dark haired kid said. "the second burst means they're actually ON the street. yesterday it happened so quickly we didnt even hear the second burst so just keep an eye on the movement of the crowd." this was useful information due to the fact that we were surrounded by thousands of people jammed into the 15 feet wide streets of pamplona, all built before the invention of cars, but today were jammed with thousands of drunken men from all over the world, here to test their fate. with the amount of people and the tight corners of the run, i figured we wouldnt even be able to see the bulls until they were practically on top of us and even then, i couldnt imagine how i was going to actually 'run' anywhere without trampling everyone within my path. i looked up and saw the clock read 7:45, i thought, "well, ill have answers to all of these questions in 15 minutes."
"is it me or is this the longest 15 minutes of all time?" sideburns asks.
the dark haired kid and i laugh and agree
"so are you going to stay in the ring?" sideburns asks.
"what are you talking about?
"well, the run ends in the ring with everyone pouring inside. there they corral the bulls then release two at a time to charge back in after everyone left in the ring."
"but can i get out of the ring?" i ask.
"yeah, you just have to jump the barricade on the sides, but traditionally its looked down upon. they see it as not having done the complete run and is seen as showing a 'lack of man-hood'."
shit. not only was i going to have to run with the bulls, i was going to be held captive for who knows how long in a ring with a bunch of confused two ton animals with foot long horns.
"yo, get to the sides, here come the cops," sideburns says as a group of cranky policemen come charging through the center of the crowd. "they're pushing the bulk of the people forward in order to thin out the crowd."
"fuck, this is getting intense." i say as im tripping over the men surrounding me.
"dude, five more minutes."
i look back up at the clock and it reads 7:57. the crowd begins to be overcome with an electric intensity. you can feel it in the air, like the moments before you know a fight is going to break out. the chants become louder, "ole', ole'ole' oleee'." the mass of spectators along the wooden fence barrier begins clapping and waving red flags, the crowd begins to sway back and forth, knocking people to the ground as if we're all front row at a sold out concert. i look to my texas friends and scream over the mass hysteria, "hey man, it was nice meeting you...good luck." i say with a friendly pat on the back."
swaying along and trying to hold his footing, sideburns yells, "yeah man, ill see you in the ring. remember, if you fall, STAY DOWN and keep your head covered, better to be trampled than be gored."
laughing i can see him fall back into the crowd, swallowed by the sea of white and red.
then it hit me, the icy cold shallow breaths. they overtake my lungs and for a moment the right side of my brain beings to scream at me, "dude, what the fuck are you doing?!? you could DIE here, this is totally avoidable."
out loud i yell, "fuck you, i didnt spend thousands of dollars and travel half way across the planet to NOT do this. you hold your ground you pussy." luckily, the sound of thousands of drunk people at 8am cant make out a word of my frantic english.
BOOM.
fuck. was that the first...?
BOOM.
oh fuck, the bulls are on the street.
my positioning and the surge of the crowd have pushed me a few blocks up into the course and i know that i have less than a minute before the bulls are right beside me. before i can think, the mass begins to push me forward. uncontrollably, i am forced to begin running or be trampled by thousands. my legs are barely touching the ground, i am kept upright by the surge of people shoving me forward. i begin to push and shove my way to the side of the street in order to get my baring. with my body tilted sideways and following the flow, i maneuver through the rushing stream of white and red and grab ahold of the ledge on the corner of a building. i flatten my body up against the wall so to make myself as flat as possible in order to make room for the flood of the rushing crowd. i look to the building across from where im standing and it reads 'p. ghutuyi'.
"oh fuck." i scream. im at whats known as 'dead mans corner'.
this is the corner known for where the bulls all collide in to the wall unable to make such a tight right turn. from legend, it is unwise to stand here because when the bulls slide and smash into the wooden corner, they become disorientated and seperate from the herd, making them nervous and agitated. they then get back up and attempt to trample the people standing closest to them. which at this very second, would be me.
i turn to my right as to run and there is a virtual wall of people not moving, just as i begin to panic there is a surge in the crowd. one like ive never seen. people are sprinting so fast in front of my face i cant make out shapes. it looks like a waterfall of red and white. the mass is rushing so quickly jumping in and going with the flow isnt an option. in the distance i hear it, "clop clop clop."
my eyes widen and my mouth goes dry. i feel the blood leave my face and my head and shoulders go cold. the flow of people slow to a trickle minus a few sprinters looking backwards over their shoulders, neck creening back and eyes wide as saucers. as i turn my head to my left, i make out the image of a black bull running at what must have been twice as fast as ive ever run in my entire life. my breathing ceases. never has fear ever been so personified in me at that very second.
i froze.
"BAM!" i watched as the bull, the size of a small car crashes into the wooden wall. immediately following him were two others of the same size and stature. the first bull attempts to stand when two larger brown and tan bulls collide with him knocking the first bull on its side. im frozen.
the world is slow and silent. i see the faces scream past my face and i cant take my eyes off off the muscles on the back of the black bull. i can see every muscle striation, how the hair lays on its back, the gouges in the horns and the glassy eyeballs of this massive creature. my brain yells, "RUN! you stupid motherfucker." but i cant. i am so entranced with the sheer magnitude of power on display in front of me, i cant even think to exhale. i cant shake my eyes, like the moments before a car crash or a punch to the face, the trance is pure and visceral terror.
as if all at once, all five bulls stand and look my way. i am no more than eight feet from terrified and crazed bulls that want to stab, gore and kill everything within their path...and i am standing directly in front of them.
i shake my face back and forth to wake myself from the daze and the childlike panic fills my heart and my legs with adrenaline and i begin to run too fast for my body, like a scooby-doo cartoon. instantly i fall to my hands and my knees.
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!" i scream, looking over my shoulder to the left as i see the faces of three bulls disappear and are now replaced with six foot long ivory horns. its in these precise seconds when the seriousness of the situation dawn upon me.
this IS my life. there are very few moments when each and every emotion and action are pure and uncalculated and made strictly upon survival. this was one of those moments. the moment where i was literally inches away from possible death.
"GET THE FUCK OFF ME!" i scream as i shove the people falling on top of me to the sides.
my feet push off of something solid yet soft and i look between my legs and notice a layer grown men face down on the street, people are using them to get their footing and push off. i included. for a moment a wave of empathy overtakes me and i think about how in the face of this mayhem and chaos i should help out these people in need. as im looking at their faces of agony, i see over their shoulders the horns of the three bulls charging directly at us.
the screams of terror that emanate from my lungs are woman-like and shrill. the kind of blood-curtiling scream that comes from your backbone and rattles your throat. i shove forward, using my adrenaline induced power to throw men like bean bags, i slip and fall again, in teeth clenched horror i claw at the shirts of some balding men in front of me, throw them to the ground and power sprint my way through the carnage right down the middle of the street.
i am in full on sprint now with very few people around me. as i look over my shoulder to locate the bulls i see a man make a desperate attempt to jump through the fence that seperates the runners and bulls from the spectators but only to be shoved, face first back into the fleeing drunken and bloody mass by none other than a poilceman. this is no longer fun. im not thinking about 'a list' or an awesome tale to tell my friends back home, the fear that now grips me is making my teeth chatter and my heart beat so hard my eyeballs feel like they're going to burst. before i get the chance to let the tears of fright fall i feel a hot wind pass my face. standing shoulder to shoulder with me are the three black bulls. only two feet away are their horns jutting forward like sabers, searching to impale the next person who makes the mistake of being too close. like a spring, i launch off the street and onto the sidewalk.
the combination of early morning air, adrenaline, terror and sprinting have now turned my lungs to salt vapor and i am now desperately looking for a recessed doorway to hide in. each one i pass is filled with at least three people. while the three black bulls have passed me, i am certain the two brown bulls have not passed by me yet. its not knowing where they are that powers my strides.
i find a doorway with one middle aged greek man. i leap in the foot deep recession and i make my body flat against the door.
"oh shit, here they come." i yell to the man.
here, i have a vantage point. i am on top of the incline of the street and i can see the hot breath of the huffing bulls as they run directly up the center of the street. i dont have time to pray, i think, "please please do not see me and stab me in the guts with your horns." with a 'whoosh' they pass.
i take a deep breath, smile and say, "well shit, you're not gonna live forever. get in the game and make this worth it." and i jump in right behind the bulls, chasing them in the direction of the ring. following them up the street i can see the massive hooves clomp and slip on the slippery stones beneath them, the people in front of them jump like terrified rabbits, leaping against buildings and behind one another and i follow the bulls up the street.
the bulls run faster than i ever could and they lose me, but i still continue to run because i know there are still more bulls behind me somewhere. we round the last curve and i look to my left and see the statue of Hemmingway and i say, "just like you, old man."
following the crowd around the turn we make our way down the street and into the dark corridor that leads into the stadium. i am quickly approaching a piles of about fifty bodies, some limp, some bloody, most struggling to stand but with the rush of thousands of drunken men running full speed and twelve startled bulls, they dont stand a chance. using my small stature to my advantage, i bob and weave my way through the unlucky and run through the archway. when i emerge through the other side i am immediately blinded by the light that was blocked by the narrow alleyway. i hear the roar of the spectators in the stands. i put my hand up to my face to shield the morning sun and i see every seat in the stadium is filled and standing and is cheering us on. i stop running, look down and note that i am now standing in sand. i wipe the sweat from my brow and say, "dude, you did it and you lived."
i do a quick body check to make sure everything is where it should be. other than a few cuts, scrapes and bruises, i seem to be fine. but my celebratory mood is short lived as i hear the slam of the stadium gates locking us into the center of the arena. many people panic and scramble to the sides and jump the five foot wooden ledge and i remember, shit, this isnt over just yet. the remainder of bulls are corralled by handlers with long green sticks into a pen area and a cheer comes from the spectators, all of us runners look to one another and smile hug each other, congratulate one another on surviving this far and wish each other good luck. the mood on the inside of the arena is tense but calm as we await the two bulls to be unleashed upon us. a small group of runners has amassed at the opening of the corral where they sit, indian style waiting. i look to a guy i hear speak with an australian accent and say, "what are they doing?"
"man, those guys are crazy." he says hands on his knees panting, "they sit and wait there for the bull to come out. its like theyre playing a game of chicken."
"shut the fuck up, are you serious?" i say just as the doors fly open and two bulls literally fly out of the pen, leaping four hooves in the air over the maniacs sitting. "OLE'" the arena roars as the bulls go running wildly. some of the men are trampled immediately. i rush to the side as the stampede rushes in all directions. while there is a significant decrease in runners, the arena is still packed, so much so that we cant see over each other and where it wouldnt be so much of a problem before in the streets because the bulls want to get from point A to point B, the bulls now have no where to go nor are they with the herd, they are panic-stricken and nervous. runners surround the bulls and taunt them with red shirts or rolled up newpapers. the bulls make quick turns and run after the daring. most people are quick enough to avoid the sharp horns, some are not. i see a middle aged spanish man get cocky and slap the bull on its hind quarter. the bull snaps into action and drives directly into the mans knees, sending him toppling forward and onto the bull. the bull then throws the man upward into the air about six feet, as he comes down the bull thrashes its head upward once again, smashing its massive head and horns into the mans mid-section. he falls limp in the sand. the bull then begins grinding its horns into the unconscious mans back and sides. its an out of body experience. to see a man get smashed and gored and wasted in front of thousands of spectators whos bloodlust cheers this on is overwhelming. this is not fun anymore. this is not a sport. this is danger and horror. and i want out but my head keeps telling me, "see, this is what you wanted, now finish it."
so i stay.
they corral the bulls and release two more bulls. these two are far more intense and agitated and quickly begin running circles around the ring. no one can keep an eye on where they are. there is so much confusion within the crowd people are shoving and yelling at one another. anarchy sets in and people fall and get smashed from behind when they lose sight of the bulls. i stand trembling in the middle of the ring surrounded by the drunken mass. everyone is on guard, arms stretched out at our sides, ready to jump left or right like offensive linemen. i only know the bull is coming when the person in front of me does and the person in front of him and so forth. its nerve-wracking, like when you're in a pitch dark haunted house and you know someone is going to come and jump out to scare you but its the anticipation kills you. this was what it was like for 35 minutes. coming inches from death and injury. full sized animals with the capability of ending your life running circles around you for pure entertainment. my nerves couldnt take it anymore. then i hear it.
the final explosion of fireworks, signifying the end of the run for the day.
a long and extended cheer roars through the stands and my dirt and blood covered brothers. a relief and happiness rushes over me that one can only get when he knows he is out of harms way. i turn and i hug a stranger. then another and another. we out of breath and we smell but we were in it together. all of us. experiencing real visceral emotion. it was an test of pride, perseverance, stamina and heart peppered with mayhem and stupidity. but it was real and pure and it was an adventure that was mine forever. i smiled at the crowd and raised my arms to the sun. the dust was still settling on my face and sticking to my sweat. i breathed it in.
the sweat.
the stench of animal.
the dusty arena.
the hearts of thousands of fools.
i wanted to remember this. this moment. this very second that i made this absurd dream a reality. i thought about what it took to get me to that very spot. to that sandcovered floor in spain. by myself. by my own accord. about how life takes its shots and sends its armies of discouragment and procrastination to attack our lives so that we live safe and mundane. about how those armies win most of the time. about how responsibilities and death and cancer and insurmountable odds prevent us from living with the vigor we so rightfully deserve. because this world is ours for the taking and most people live comfortable and discreet lives that dont make much noise or kick up much dirt and about how this was one of the few opportunities that those armies turned their backs on and let me win.
i dropped down to one knee. i looked around at the faces i knew i would never see again and i grabbed a handful of sand and shoved it into my pocket.
i couldnt stop smiling as i walked out of the arena that day because i knew i had a handful of memories that no one could take away from me in my right pocket. and a list that now had an open spot in my left.
