Outrunning Bulls...What Was I Thinking?

  • Published
  • By 2nd Lt. Allie Delury
  • 31st Fighter Wing Public Affairs
AVIANO AIR BASE, Italy --  Disclaimer: In order to perform a high-risk activity, it is recommended that Team Aviano members fill out an AF Form 4391 detailing specific hazards and safety concerns. With any activity, it is imperative to do proper research prior to the event and have a plan in place and approved through leadership should an emergency occur.

There is nothing that describes true panic. When you're placed in a life-or-death situation, despite being surrounded by thousands of people, solitude engulfs you. Because when fear and confusion begin to cloud your judgment as you find yourself running from 12 bulls, the only person who you can truly rely on is yourself.

This weekend closed out the 9-day San Fermin festival in Pamplona, Spain, where the annual Running of the Bulls takes place. I was fortunate enough to experience the opening weekend of the festival which occurred July 5-7 and traditionally draws the largest crowds and runners.

Glorified through Ernest Hemingway's 1926 classic "The Sun also Rises," the Running of the Bulls dates back as far as the 13th century and presently involves more than just professional bullfighters. Every year, tourists from around the world gather in this rural city to run a half-mile route from the bull corrals to the bullfighting arena.

Despite not knowing much about the history of the festival prior to arriving, it became clear on the first day how passionate Spaniards are about Saint Fermin and the bullfighting culture. On July 6, locals and visitors ventured from the myriad of surrounding campgrounds to the center of town where thousands of people could be seen wearing white attire with red scarves and brown sacks packed with sangria. Above the streets, locals taunted the crowd -- egging on the tourists while waiting for the perfect moment to dump sangria and water on them. Parties, spontaneous parades and chants of "San Fermin" echoed through all corners of the city. As daylight dwindled, the number of people swelled as the nightlife of the city began to take hold.

Using what little Spanish I knew, I attempted to engage in multiple conversations with locals from Pamplona. To my surprise, none of them were planning on running with the bulls the following day. Instead, they offered advice on what to expect: Don't drink beforehand; if you fall, curl up in a ball and don't move; if you try to escape the route and jump over the fence, don't be surprised if locals try to push you back in.

The next day, the campground we stayed at emptied at 6 a.m. as hundreds of Americans, Australians, Spaniards and other Europeans groggily stumbled onto buses and rode into the city. When we reached the city, my nerves started to kick at the realization that I was one of just a few girls who were nervously climbing over the tall wooden fences that divided the city from the bulls' route.

Over the next 90 minutes that it took for the bulls to be released, the crowd thickened to the point where you could barely raise your arms over your head. At one point, a couple of Americans started pointing and screaming about the New York Jets. Fitting, since we later saw Coach Rex Ryan standing 10 feet away from us.

Finally, the cameramen in the stands began to shuffle and the people in the balcony began to cheer as the clock read 7:55 a.m. Despite the fact that the bulls weren't going to be released for another five minutes, the crowd began to swell and move away from the corrals.

Then it happened--the sound of a gunshot.

Screams from all directions filled the hot air as the crowd began sprinting away from the bulls and towards an unseen arena. My initial thought revolved around the fear of getting trampled, but the fear was later replaced by the horrifying reality that I was, in fact, running away from two packs of bulls -- six fighting bulls and six chasing bulls released about a minute apart.

All in all, the entire experience only lasted about five minutes and ended with the bulls charging into an arena where they would later be used for bullfighting. After the run, people were seen hugging strangers, helping those who were trampled, and taking pictures with dirt and sangria-stained attire before heading back to the city center to celebrate with food and parades. As the fear and adrenaline wore off, everyone spoke a common language of pretension while boasting on cheating death and showing off whatever battle scars they had earned.

When I returned to Italy, everyone kept asking how the run was. There are only so many times I can compare my experience with the stampede scene from "The Lion King" without boring people or leaving them unsatisfied. The best way I can describe it is that you barely remember the run itself. What you remember are the moments of sheer emotion -- whether it's panic, fear or anger. Nothing else compares to the fight, flight or freeze response that your body has when you're in a dangerous situation. You don't think about anything, you just do it. Not because you want to have fun, but because you want to survive.

The smartest decision I made prior to running was doing my research and talking with the 31st Fighter Wing Safety Office about ways to ensure that I wouldn't get hurt. Being prepared helped me keep calm and make smarter decisions when everyone else was panicking. Having that discussion with your leadership is crucial not just with the Running of the Bulls, but with any high-risk activity that you partake in.

Overall, the Running of the Bulls was a great experience. If you want to see the flavor of Pamplona without the danger of running with wild animals, then you'll be among an entire city dedicated to experiencing the festival while watching the event safely from a balcony or fencepost.

The next running of the bulls will take place July 6-14, 2014. If you think I'm crazy enough to partake in such an outlandish, dangerous spectacle for a second time, then you're absolutely right. All it takes is careful planning, a little bit of courage, and the need to do one thing and one thing only:

Run.