Finally got thunderstorms to break the heat, and so much rain even the frogs were heading to higher ground! But it's July 7 again and my heartdrive memories are in Pamplona, running with the bulls. What great memories of new friends from many countries, of the primitive scene before all of today's media coverage. Of so much drinking even kids had to piss in the streets! And of course the purebred excitement of the purebred fighting bulls passing so close you could feel the cobbled street shake, and your adrenalin pump as fast as your legs. What can match that these days??
So the brave (inebriated??) red-and-whites gather at 7a.m. to hear the first rocket and sprint the kilometre to the bull ring. Go fast because the sound of the second rocket means the bulls have been freed, only metres behind you. I cheer for the doomed animals and already one runner has been gored. Yay bulls! And after all these years I still suit up and run, daydreams of Pamplona dancing in my shoes.
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