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Sunday, March 9, 2014

Running from the bulls

On Saturday, in a city that is nothing like the fabled streets of Pamplona the bulls ran, chasing young men and woman out for a thrill though streets and over barricades.  I only wish that I could have been one of them, but with a bum leg and ankle and about 15 pounds of extra flesh...I would be but easy pickings for a bull.

Still though one wonders what goes through the mind as you stand there, and around the corner turns a 700 plus pound animal and you realize that you are in it's way...and that it has no reason to stop.

I could not participate and sadly was fated only to watch, to live vicariously though those that can run from nature.   Oh how I yearned to be a part of this event.  To hear the hooves, to laugh a nervous laughter and to down the quarter mile track.  The event would be over shortly after it started, and bragging rights would be established over cold beers.

I'm not sure why I wanted to do this, and if I was not under direct orders not to, I would have done this.  I think of Hemingway and the other writers that have influenced me in ways subtle and not so subtle.  Jack of course, Hunter S Thompson and George Plimpton.  Writers that loved the exploration of life.  I suppose my riding a bike is an extension of that need.

The Great Bull Run and Tomato Royal (a food fight based on La Tomatina) maybe as close as I'll ever get to running with the bulls.  You can see actual video from both events here.  Sadly do to other commitments I could not attend either event...even though I informed everyone that I was going to attend the Bull Run for days in advance.

At one time in my life I would have gone, I would have run with the bulls...injury's and commitments and common sense be damned!  Not anymore.

Still though, I can't help what happened to the immortal I once was.  Who thought nothing of chasing black haired and smokey blue eyed girls though the night, of traveling half way around the world alone to see what was there.  The guy that never thought about having to many cigarettes and cold beers.  There were many short skirts and seductive smiles and late nights in jazz clubs where whiskey and poetry flowed.

I'm not a young man anymore.  I'm not that guy anymore.

The lovely Susan often says that I got a motorcycle because of a mid-life crisis.  Sometimes I think she may be right.  I own my own business, have a home that is paid in full, a car that isn't, Kimmie (which I paid cash for), two cats...two ex wives, a 401K and medical plans....a thyroid pill to take in the morning.  I've done okay for myself...but never is enough is it?

Still though I think about the thousands of miles I have placed on her and I realize that's not a mid-life crisis.  Its me being who I am and I'm not that same young man anymore.

So the bull run went on without me.  I'm still interested in grabbing the bull by the horns.  Of exploring this world and learning what I can from everyone and everything.  Yet...yet, I don't know if I want to ride again.

This past month has been hard on me.  I've grown used to riding in my car back and forth to work.  I can listen to my NPR and not have to examine the weather report like some sacrificial lamb.  Over the past several weeks I've been asking myself "is it worth it?"

Honestly the jury is still out.  

1 comment:

Trobairitz said...

It sounds as though you just want to feel more alive - to have the adrenaline rush. No harm in that - usually.

I too get complacent taking the car to work, but in my case, my commute is only 3 miles so hardly worth suiting up.

Only you can decide whether riding is worth it to you. We all have to assess our own risks v. rewards.