We planned our Europe backpacking trip around the running of the bulls in Pamplona. We arrived in the city without reservations and couldn’t find a place to stay. We found a place a few cities over and then took the train into the city. It was almost midnight when we arrived and we were immediately introduced to glasses of sangria. What a perfect welcome wagon.
Essentially, the city is a gigantic all night celebration before they unleash the bulls through the streets. We enjoyed the celebration, meeting new people from all over the world. As dawn approached, some new found friends recommended not to run. They were afraid for our safety after drinking all night. They were right and we agreed with the safe responsible route. Instead of runners, we became spectators watching the bulls run. Although we weren’t chased by the bulls that early morning, little did we know the thought of not running would chase us long after we left Spain.
The running of the bulls was still an incredible experience. We enjoyed the people and tradition. Every once in awhile, I’ll see my buddy and he will randomly say, “We should have run,” and I immediately understand what he’s talking about. There is no context needed for that statement, nor additional words before or after. Just, “We should have run.” That captured the feeling and I silently nod because he’s right. We should have.
We were in our twenties then. Both athletic, we could risk running for our lives. Now it’s a choice that really isn’t a choice anymore. And that’s OK. Most times I’m fine for sitting that one out. I don’t dwell on it. It’s just when I hear the words, “We should have run,” that’s when it kind of hurts a little bit because we know the chance was at our fingerprints. On the flip side, I could be sitting here right now with bull horned wounds marking a fateful run. But there are times when I’m uncertain which scars would hurt more. Being physically maimed by a stampede of bulls, or the occasional tinge of regret. Honestly, it’s a toss up. We should have run.
Jackson Brown released Running On Empty in 1977. It was the title track of the album and the first song to kick things off.
This is the opening track on the Running On Empty album. The album version opens with 30 seconds of hooting and hollering from the crowd as they eagerly anticipate the performance. When the song ends, we hear about 20 seconds of cheering before it fades to silence and the next song, “The Road,” recorded at a different venue, comes in, continuing the travelogue.
– songfacts
There are some similarities of our backpacking trip to the album. Both had a lot of hooting and hollering at the beginning. We could taste the anticipation. The fading to silence on the first tract feels like our train ride out of Pamplona. What did we just do? Or rather, what did we not do? But just like the album moving to the next track, we found ourselves in another city, another country, a different adventure. And we realized that this trip was about making an album, not just one song. So we didn’t run, and yeah, that kind of stings. But we had another nine tracks to go to make a great album. That was just the beginning.
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Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
Looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields
In '65, I was 17 and running up 101
I don't know where I'm running now, I'm just running on
Running on, running on empty
Running on, running blind
Running on, running into the sun
But I'm running behind
Gotta do what you can just to keep your love alive
Trying not to confuse it with what you do to survive
In '69, I was 21 and I called the road my own
I don't know when that road turned on to the road I'm on
Running on, running on empty
Running on, running blind
Running on, running into the sun
But I'm running behind
Everyone I know, everywhere I go
People need some reason to believe
I don't know about anyone but me
If it takes all night, that'll be all right
If I can get you to smile before I leave
Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
I don't know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels
Look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see them running, too
Running on, running on empty
Running on, running blind
Running on, running into the sun
But I'm running behind
Honey, you really tempt me
You know the way you look so kind
I'd love to stick around but I'm running behind
(Running on)
You know I don't even know what I'm hoping to find
(Running blind)
Running into the sun but I'm running behind
“But there are times when I’m uncertain which scars would hurt more. Being physically maimed by a stampede of bulls, or the occasional tinge of regret.“
That’s the existential question, isn’t it? Whether to take the risk and fail, or not take the risk at all and regret it. I think we all have those moments when we’ve sat on the sidelines and regretted it. At least it serves as motivation to get in the game next time.
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So right…
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What an awesome experience that is to have! Even knowing that you COULD have run with the bulls is really cool!
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We still saw the bulls… there is that. Backpacking through Europe on a shoestring budget was a good time
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The song choice and your story are perfect for the prompt! There are several times I “should have run” and am generally okay that I didn’t though it’s a reminder to take the golden opportunities life hands us. Maybe at our ages, not the dangerous ones, mind you. Great post.
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Total agreement, my friend. I’ll steer clear of the dangerous ones!
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Good plan!
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i love your real life adventures!! how lucky to have seen the bulls in person 🙂 … sometimes, i feel as though i’ve never really lived.
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Please don’t feel that way. We each have our own unique experiences. There are many things that I haven’t experienced, and I make my peace with it. Or possibly see if I still have it in me too give it a try. You are a rock star, Ren!
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❤
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Great story! I liked the shared regret aspect. Just think, when you’re 90, you’ll be able to call your friend at his assisted living facility and say “we shoulda run” and he’ll know exactly who it is.
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Hahaha… I love this!! I’ll where chair over to his wheel chair and we’ll have it down to a nod and we will know what we’re saying.
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Listening to this next in my car. He was a phenomenal songwriter.
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I didn’t really appreciate him until later in life…
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I use to listen to him when I lived in the mountains.
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I think it was cool you living in Mammoth. It might be a great to retire there someday.
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Yes it would be, although there are lots of other ski towns that are comparable and less expensive.
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The price the definitely a barrier. That crossed my mind. The alternative is to get a cabin in Big Bear or Arrowhead and live up there part time.
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Love this whole album but especially The Load-Out and Stay at the end. Tells what it’s like to be a touring artist, always on the road. I used to sing that at the top of my lungs riding my motorcycle from Orlando to Tampa to see my then girlfriend. On a side note, my wife and I live at the foot of the Sierra Nevadas now. Mammoth is awesome but way too expensive to live there-we’re heading to Kirkwood today for our second to last ski day of the year. Closing day is Sunday.
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There is nothing like a song that is sung at the top of your lungs. Thanks for sharing that. That is a great visual.
Yes, Mammoth is insanely expensive. I grew up going to Mammoth in the 70s before the popularity explosion. I remember when it was a small town for summer fishing and winter skiing. Ah, the good old days.
Have a great time on the slopes…
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