Welp. Taking heed (and a bow, indeed).
One entry on my bucket list has retired and officially kicked the bucket: Running with the Bulls in Spain.
I don’t necessarily fancy myself as adventurous as I am [situation-dependent, reasonably cautious] but I can’t lie, I do fantasize about taking the plunge and giving it a whirl with the bulls on the run.
Although I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t going to be one of the ones with the scraped up arm from running too closely to the wall (that I know I’d crawl up like Spidey at the thought of seeing a bull actually charging me), still, I want wanted to go.
That is—until I got official notice that a professional Matador, Victor Barrio, fell victim to
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