These boots were made for walking...

In the third week of July, I took part in the Nijmegen marches, also known in the Netherlands as the 'Vierdaagse', or the four day event. Walking 100 miles in four days through Dutch towns, villages and occasional countryside wearing uniform, including heavy boots and (should you have the misfortune to be of the male persuasion) carrying 10kg of weight not including food and water is, I'll admit, not everyone's idea of fun. For the majority of the walk; the 3am alarms, the swollen feet, the moment of doubt as to whether I was still in possession of my little toes, the chafing, the sticky sweatiness which starts around 6:30am and doesn't go away, the burning heat rash running from my ankles to the backs of my knees, it's not my idea of fun either. I would rather be sitting on a sofa watching Bake Off, or eating ice cream on a beach, or relaxing by a pool, or any number of other genuinely enjoyable experiences. I realised this the first time round, in 2013. And In 2014 I went back.

The atmosphere in the towns and the camaraderie on the march is unique. Having little kids run up to you asking for your autograph (no, really) and giving countless high-fives to enthusiastic Dutch people is pretty uplifting. The sheer scale of the marches - 43,000 people turned up on day one, and of these about 5, 000 were military from all over the place, all living in the same camp. As a group of German soldiers walked past singing 'it's a long way to Tipperary' on the second or third day brought home the extent to which we exist within an international, cross-cultural Europe. The reaction of the march organisers and participants to the MH17 tragedy was moving beyond words, but exemplifies the kindness and goodheartedness that lies at the very centre of the Nijmegen marches.

Nijmegen is addictive. I was chatting to a man one day who told me it was his thirty third time. Thirty three. It turns out he had first got into it through the met police, who regularly put in a team and can be found walking along with their traditional black police hats. He retired a while ago and his best friends from the police force were spread around the UK - one in Scotland, one in Northern Ireland, one still living in London. The only time of the year these friends met up was to walk nijmegen - and he assured me that it gets easier the more times you do it.

Crossing the finish line at long last was wonderful. It's not just about knowing that you have personally completed a challenging walk but more importantly that you've done it as a team - especially when that team has gone through moments of seemingly insurmountable adversity. Every single person who completes the march demonstrates some level of mental toughness and resilience, and a team made up of this kind of strong person is a very special thing indeed.

Yes, when it's halfway through day three and the whole team is tired, hot and suffering varying degrees of pain, it's very easy to denounce Nijmegen as a terrible idea, a masochistic exercise that serves no real purpose other than to demonstrate the fragility of the twenty-first century human when exposed to a hard day or two of walking. You can say, as many do, 'I am never doing this again. Ever.' And then on the final day, a couple of hours and a few glasses of wine past the finish line, you'll be counting down until next year... 

See you in 2015, Nijmegen.