In Pamplona, the bull run feels like madness long before the bulls appear. We were jammed so tightly into the square that falling seemed fatal. Two guys from New Jersey, who had botched their run the day before, told us to wait. The first cannon means nothing, they said. The second means the bulls are coming. The third means they are there. When the third canon fired, a girl on a balcony screamed, “HERE THEY COME,” and everything exploded. The ground shook, the cobblestones were slick, people were whipped from fences for trying to climb out, and suddenly the herd was on us. I was knocked down, knew I couldn’t stay there, and forced myself through the chaos. The bulls were bigger than I imagined, like cars on hooves, and in that instant I understood why people return year after year. In business and in life, you cannot control the chaos, only how quickly you move through it.