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Jay Helwig
Running with the Bulls
Running with the Bulls
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It seemed like a good idea at the time. Most bad ideas do. Having seen the chute, crowds, runners and bulls, running myself was definitely in the cards. A night spent drinking sangria at the campsite helped too. Impressing females is always motivation if not the wisest.
Getting up and into town was difficult. 7 AM or 8 AM depending if one counted daylight saving. Climbing over the fence and into the chute was easy. There were guys in white outfits with red scarf’s and waistbands everywhere.
It looked easy enough. In the distance a cannon went off. A few seconds later steers appeared in the distance followed by bulls. They let cows loose first so the bulls can chase them. I could see runners in the distance bailing out as the cattle came closer. Some runners ducked into stairwells, one kid leaped up and grabbed the frame of a sign and pulled himself up and out of danger.
Runners started running towards me. Some passed me by. I started to run. I looked back, I could see the closest steer’s nostrils flaring as it breathed. I realized I was looking up. Cattle are big. I had never been physically near livestock, now they were bearing down on me.
I started accelerating. Other runners were in my way. I looked back again. The steers were closing. Behind the first few I saw the bulls. They were huge. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, I veered to the side to get over the fence. A crowd of runners, all with the same idea at once, beat me to it. They were climbing up and then I saw them. Guardia de Civil officers were on top of the fence flaying at the runners with billy clubs. Bailing out of the run was against their rules.
I got to the wall of runners on the fence and leaped up. My foot hit another runner’s hip and I climbed over him. I grabbed onto the shirt of the next runner up and pulled. I was capulting myself up when I saw the flash of a billy club striking the head of the runner just above me. I didn’t stop. The billy club rose up. I don’t know if I hit him with a fist or a forearm. Whatever, I nailed him in the chin, with an uppercut. He fell back and I landed on top of him.
Striking a Guardia de Civil must have been unknown. He lay there more surprised then injured with me on top of him. But I was out of that chute madness, then up and running. I got into the crowd and away.
Getting up and into town was difficult. 7 AM or 8 AM depending if one counted daylight saving. Climbing over the fence and into the chute was easy. There were guys in white outfits with red scarf’s and waistbands everywhere.
It looked easy enough. In the distance a cannon went off. A few seconds later steers appeared in the distance followed by bulls. They let cows loose first so the bulls can chase them. I could see runners in the distance bailing out as the cattle came closer. Some runners ducked into stairwells, one kid leaped up and grabbed the frame of a sign and pulled himself up and out of danger.
Runners started running towards me. Some passed me by. I started to run. I looked back, I could see the closest steer’s nostrils flaring as it breathed. I realized I was looking up. Cattle are big. I had never been physically near livestock, now they were bearing down on me.
I started accelerating. Other runners were in my way. I looked back again. The steers were closing. Behind the first few I saw the bulls. They were huge. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, I veered to the side to get over the fence. A crowd of runners, all with the same idea at once, beat me to it. They were climbing up and then I saw them. Guardia de Civil officers were on top of the fence flaying at the runners with billy clubs. Bailing out of the run was against their rules.
I got to the wall of runners on the fence and leaped up. My foot hit another runner’s hip and I climbed over him. I grabbed onto the shirt of the next runner up and pulled. I was capulting myself up when I saw the flash of a billy club striking the head of the runner just above me. I didn’t stop. The billy club rose up. I don’t know if I hit him with a fist or a forearm. Whatever, I nailed him in the chin, with an uppercut. He fell back and I landed on top of him.
Striking a Guardia de Civil must have been unknown. He lay there more surprised then injured with me on top of him. But I was out of that chute madness, then up and running. I got into the crowd and away.