I was 18 when I first went to Pamplona, Spain, and ran with the bulls during the San Fermin festival. The weeklong festival in the northern Spanish town has been one of the largest street parties in the world for centuries. Endless nights of singing, street bands, parades, dancing and bullfighting — and everyone wearing a uniform of all white with red accents. For seven days, the cycle is the same: Streets barricaded at seven in the morning, bulls released at eight, much celebration and rejoicing followed by the bullfights in the evening (in which the bulls that just that very morning were marauding on the streets face a cruel but somewhat artistic end). Then follows a night of buildup to the next morning with ever-increasing tension building as each hour passes and the next run approaches.
I ran several times on that first visit, sleeping at the public pool to recover during the sunny afternoons. While studying abroad in Madrid a few years later, I ran several more times. Those runs were really fun — scary but carefree. It's easy to take risks when you don't have a lot to lose. Then, when I was facing my 40th birthday a few years ago, I decided to go back. I took a dozen of my closest friends, many of them rugby teammates from high school and college. The feelings were quite different after the almost 20-year hiatus.
I was running a new financial firm, I had a wife and three lovely daughters at home in California. I was terrified. We were all older, more aware of risks and, more importantly, we all had a lot of responsibilities at home. There was no rational justification for doing it again. Regardless, we decided to run. At the first big turn (nicknamed “hamburger corner” for obvious reasons) I lost my footing and fell on top of a pile of people. The charging bulls peeled around my completely vulnerable derrière. We sprinted nervously for the remainder of the run — when we reached the arena we screamed in elation and hugged each other, and I swore that would be my last run. After all, I had run in my teens, my 20s and my 30s and the risks were very clearly no longer worth it.
But here I was on July 13, 47 years old and in the square with my friends about to participate in my 10th run. Why would I do something so risky? It's not justifiable, but let me share the reasons, if only to help explain why anyone should ever takes risks like this:
1. Everyone needs to be a little selfish. In middle age, we often become beasts of burden, providing to everyone around us. It's often impossible to find personal time among the daily chores of earning a living and ensuring you are a good family and community member. Taking a few days just to be together with friends; laughing, eating too much, staying up too late; bonding and reminding yourself who you are when you aren't dad or worker bee — or any other label — is invigorating and recharging. Few things are more bonding or liberating than a team of friends facing a big challenge together.
2. It's important to face our fears.
A couple of years ago, my wife and I were attacked by four brick-wielding thugs in Buenos Aires. We got out OK after a very messy fight, but the psychological damage has been with me since it happened. Strange as it sounds, even though the fight went fine, I have been carrying a feeling of vulnerability and fragility that I wanted to confront. Going back to running the bulls was a good way for me to see if I had the willingness to continue taking risks. I have always believed growth takes risk, taking risk takes courage. This felt like the right test for me. For each of us, taking calculated risk is an important element to growing, though obviously running with bulls is not the way I'd suggest for most to test themselves.
3. To remind yourself what really matters. Standing in the square for the 30 minutes before the run is an incredibly introspective period. Every ounce of you wants out, you are scared, you want to be safely with your loved ones. You think about all the things that would be affected if you mess up. In the chaos of the run you are petrified for everything you can lose, and when it's done, you want to embrace everything you love in the world. You feel free and intimately connected to the people you love and the life you have created.
So was it worth it? Yes. I learned that I'm definitely slower and less fit now than I was at 39. I also learned that I was more scared (because I have more to lose). But, most importantly, I realized a nice symmetry between running with the bulls and life. As you run for your life with threats all around you, the choices you make at any given moment can change everything. One wrong turn and things could go really badly, but you have to keep looking over your shoulder and keep moving forward, challenging and pushing yourself — even though you are afraid and exhausted you keep going. When it's done you celebrate, high-five and hug, and feel alive and appreciative. Isn't that just like life?
Joe Duran is chief executive of United Capital. Follow him @DuranMoney.
