How many miles to New Ross?

Yesterday's trip up the mountain reminded me of a time when a much younger, less fit me walked from Waterford to New Ross as part of group torture, ahem I mean a sponsored walk.

When I was in first year in college, back in 2006 ( I was 24) myself and a group of friends were persuaded, by our social studies lecturer, to do a sponsored walk from Our college campus on the cork road to New Ross. Now if that means nothing to you then consider yourself lucky. New Ross is a town the next county over and is 15 miles or 26km away from Waterford. For some mad reason I thought it would be fun despite not ever doing much that constituted exercise and besides all my friends were going to do it too.
One by one they all backed out of it citing laziness or expected hangovers on the day until there was only myself and one other person I knew well doing it. I think it was stubbornness that kept me hanging in there plus I'd already collected sponsorship from a whole load of people who were convinced I wouldn't go ahead with it.

On the day Itself I woke up to a weather forecast of rain and a small craft warning but the walk was going ahead so I dressed myself in what must of been the least practical outfit I could have assembled for a long walk in November. I was wearing some cheap runners ( I didn't have ones you would actually use for running) a t-shirt and hoodie and finally some cotton track suit Pants. I think they might have been from Topshop but they were better suited to lounging around the house than actual exercise but because of how they fit I thought It wise to wear a thong and avoid VPL (visible panty line). A decision I later came to regret.
I threw a jacket on over this ensemble and headed out to meet with about 30 other students.

By the time we had walked from the college to the Bridge out of the city we were already soaked through, probably not the most auspicious start for a walk that ended up taking about 5 hours. The wind was so strong that we couldn't walk fast and in cold wet clothes we weren't a cheery bunch. We did not however have to carry a log at any point but that wasn't much consolation as I would not have had the strength to carry much more than kindling back then. I think we were only an hour in when my feet began to ache and not long after that when I lost all feeling in my bum. Then again there was only one layer of material between my skin and the cold so it was hardly surprising that I met with considerable discomfort.
The walk felt like it went on forever, in the rain and wind our pace was ridiculously slow, the same walk in better weather would have taken half the time. And I remember it felt like we were trudging a long an endless road. Some reached the town faster than others but I was somewhere near the back and by the time we got to the pub we agreed to meet at I could barely walk.
We sat there in our wet clothes shaking while they arranged a bus home and I changed into pajamas the minute I got home and wrapped a blanket around my while I nursed my wounds. My feet would not stop aching and it hurt to sit down.

For about a week after wards I couldn't walk on the flat part of my feet and had to walk on the sides giving me the gait of a heavily pregnant woman but more embarrassingly due to my poor wardrobe choices I ended up with blisters on my bum. More than a little mortifying which is why I told no one and described my injury as on my upper thigh to the pharmacist declining to show him when I purchased bandages and anti septic.
Since then I've learned don't walk 15 km in a thong and lounge pants which sounds a lot like common sense to most people. The upside is I've gotten a lot smarter and fitter in the last seven years so that makes it easier to look back and laugh, and only cringe a little

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