SANSE 2025: Encierros and New Friends Outside of Madrid

The feria season in Spain runs the entire summer as large cities and small pueblos alike celebrate their respective patron saints, primary patronesses, and local history. The most famous of these is the Fiesta de San Fermin in Pamplona, which Hemingway popularised with his novel The Sun Also Rises. Every year, hundreds of thousands to over a million people party in Pamplona's streets, and many hundreds of those participate in the famed running of the bulls. Most runners will only partake in the encierro once to take home a cool travel story. Some, like me, return year after year to test their skill and bravery in the confined streets with six toros de lidia specifically bred for the Spanish bullfight. For us, running is more than a fun event; it is a deep-rooted tradition, dangerous obsession, and even an addiction. We can't describe why we return every year to those who have never run, but to those who have, no explanation is needed. "I get it, now," is all that needs to be said after someone runs their first and joins the ranks of those who have run with the bulls more times than Hemingway (who never ran himself).

Pamplona is not the only city with encierros, however, as this tradition is not based in the party but in the practical necessity of moving livestock to sale before the invention of the car or train. From Salamanca to Illescas, Cuellar to Estella, encierros are a deeply-ingrained part of fiestas across the country. Some, like in Puente la Reina, run with female cows rather than male bulls, a function of both municipal funds and the lack of plaza de toros for bullfights. Others, like in Cuellar, still herd bulls in from the pastures on horseback before handing them off to runners in the city's streets. I have run some of these and watched others. While Pamplona is the beating heart of Spain's encierro culture, smaller, local fiestas offer something Pamplona cannot: an encierro composed mostly of locals, not international tourists.

This year, I found myself in yet another fiesta brava, this time in San Sebastian de los Reyes, a suburb of Madrid. I had read about the encierros in SANSE, as the town is locally called, but it never occurred to me to participate in them. Last year, I ran in Cuellar as a part of my Aficionado Tour instead of SANSE; the cities' festivals happen at the same time, and accommodations and bullfight tickets were much cheaper in Cuellar. This year, though, I had nowhere to be at the end of August. Finding myself in Madrid with a T-Zone tourist transport pass in my hand, I decided to see what SANSE's encierros were all about.

These encierros are far different than Pamplona's and Cuellar's. The route is right at 1 km long compared to Pamplona's 875 meters. Instead of a straight route through town, SANSE's encierros weave away from the bullring before doubling back, both out of necessity a long run and practicality to avoid too narrow of streets. Whereas Cuellar's encierros are sparsely populated, SANSE's draws hundreds of locals and a fair number of tourists, and the police presence, while not as intense as Pamplona, is heavy to ensure runners adhere to the rules.

The encierros begin at the corals, an unassuming yellow building along one of the city's main roads. The corals are covered and windows blocked, so you can't get a glimpse of the bulls from the outside the before they are released. From there, they meet a left-hand turn that leads down a short straightaway. They have yet to meet any runners; instead, they gain speed as the steers lead the herd down the confined route. Halfway down the straightaway, pastores block the runners from moving forwards to meet the bulls, just like the police do in Pamplona. Once the pastores step away, the encierro is on.

The next ninety-degree left turn is where the encierro starts to take shape. The steers, larger than the bulls, swing wide, while the bulls stick to the middle or the inside. Some of the bulls slow down, others gain speed, and professional runners carefully strike the balance of running close without becoming a target. At this point, there are a fair number of people, but not enough to prevent anyone from being singled out as different by a wayward bull. Just fifty meters down the road, shouts of "Arriba! Arriba!" come from the spectators, urging runners to jump onto and over the fence to safety. Sometimes getting on the fence is all you have to do; sometimes, you have to vault over to avoid a bull's horn as it passes right next to the wood. The spectators know the game, and they step back from the barriers so runners can seek safety as the bulls start the only uphill section of the route.

Once up the short hill, the hard, ninety-degree right turn as Las Postas brings large crowds of runners. Some are professionals, some are tourists, but the crowd is too big for my liking. I like the simplicity and mano-a-mano feel of the beginning. At this curve, the city erects bleachers for people to watch as the bulls steam up the hill and continue down the route. It's a great place to watch the encierro if you're not going to run, but also a dangerous place to run as the bulls start to separate in the crowds after the hill.

Not far away is yet another ninety-degree turn onto the Calle Real, the long straightaway where the bulls really pick up speed. I best compare this stretch to the Estafeta in Pamplona; in fact, that is the colloquial name for the Calle Real during the fiesta. It's not statistically accurate, but my observations have been that this is where the most injuries happen. I've never run there, so I can't speak to why that is. Knowing the Estafeta in Pamplona, I can hazard a guess that it is due to trips, falls, and not being able to see the bulls through the throngs of runners.

Finally, the last turn leads to the Plaza de Toros. If you get there with the bulls, you can run into the arena with them. If not, you can't, as the gate is promptly shut for safety. Once the gate is shut, a rocket signals the end of the run, and runners and spectators both flock to the ticket booth to buy their tickets to the suelta de reses, the amateur cutting competition where local youths try to get as close as possible to bulls and young heifers as they charge across the ring (in other cities, this is also called the vaquillas populares).

My experience in SANSE this year felt a bit like my first time in Pamplona, just without all the first-run nerves. I wasn't familiar with the route nor the bulls' typical behaviours at various turns. Nor was I accustomed to the local rules, which includes no sunglasses. While I don't have a problem with the no sunglasses rule, the police making me take them off twenty minutes before the run was a bit annoying, but c'est la vie.

One morning, I met a group of Americans who were teaching English in Spain. Naturally, I talked with them about the encierro in general. I am of the opinion that new, first-time tourist runners are going to run anyway, so experienced guys like me should give some basic first-time pointers to keep us all safe. They wanted to run at the front with me, but a police officer approached to have a word. He was adamant: they needed to start elsewhere. It was too dangerous for first-time runners at the front, in his opinion, and he wanted me to pass the word. I didn't argue. I wasn't experienced enough in SANSE to argue with the police, and in Spain, when the police insist you do something, you do it. Fortunately, no one objected, and the police officer thanked me profusely for translating.

I was also fortunate to meet Angus, a Scottish runner who has run more than 400 encierros across Spain. We had great conversation over beers in a local peña taurina about the encierros, Spain, bullfights, and why we love it all so much. He introduced me to his crew of runners, and we were off to the races telling stories and sharing laughs about our various travels and encierros. It turned out that I had actually seen them all before. Last year, I saw a group of what I thought were Brits that looked like them on the run route. Well, it was Gus and friends! Talk about a small world.

And in that regard, that's how the encierros all cross Spain are alike. I have made lifelong friends waiting for the first rocket to explode and the bulls to be released. Running with the bulls is a shared bond that transcends national boundaries and feels different than friendships back home. We may only see each other once or twice a year, but when we do, it's like we never missed a day. Maybe it's because we're all a little crazy, or maybe it's because we understand each other's appreciation for the life we've been given, but there is never a dull or unhappy moment amongst corredores. With SANSE 2025, I made a new set of friends with whom I share my dangerous obsession. I can't wait to make more.