Eighteen Miles in Six Hours in Full Armor

My friend Bill Grandy and I completed a full Roman march at the standard military pace, as described in Vegetius, in full late fifteenth century armor. Vegetius describes the common military step as twenty Roman miles completed in five summer hours, which in modern units is 18.4 miles (29.6 km) in six hours and fifteen minutes. Did the medieval warrior class actually practice that?

Copies of Vegetius were widely distributed in the 15th century, and the idea of marching in armor as both training and feat is well documented. One English poem specifically summarizes Vegetius as such: "And 60 pounds of weight on foot to bear, and go therewith a chivalrous pace, with all, and harness and sword and spear, freely to bear, all this is but solace; things exercised oft in time and space, hard if it be, with use it will be eased, the young men herewith be best appeased." (Knyghthode and Bataile (Cotton MS Titus A XXIII))

Dom Duarte's Livro dos conselhos describes his training "And to practice he should arm himself with all weapons and goes on foot a great distance up a [hill] for a long length to strengthen himself." Descriptions of Jean Le Maingre, also known as "Boucicaut," say "Then, he ran or walked at length, to train to have long breathing and suffer long efforts."

Clearly this isn't to replicate actual battlefield practice, as knights would primarily fight or at least move on horseback. Perhaps, however, it served as i) a form of training and ii) a feat that referenced antiquity. It is in this spirit that we completed this march.

-Charles

The following is Bill's thoughts on the march:

When Charles proposed the Vegetius March, I instantly fell in love with the idea. There were two main reasons this appealed to me so much. The first was because I enjoy pushing myself physically. I’m currently 45 years old. I’ve worn and fought in armor for 25 years now. It’s gratifying to test myself and know that my body can still handle armored feats like this. However, this is a romanticization of history, to see if I can capture a taste of a past that might have existed. It is ultimately very self-serving, and of limited value to anyone besides myself.

The second, and more important reason, is this: Medieval feats of the knightly class were often far more romantic than practical. The modern student of history often wants to justify historical actions by creating an intent which may not have existed, to rationalize a cultural behavior as “practical” rather than accept that humans aren’t always so. Marching twenty miles in full armor on foot simply wasn’t a common necessity for a primarily mounted combatant of the 15th century. Despite this, the very fact that Vegetius’s work was copied and recopied, owned by nobility and military leaders (see Steven Bruso’s Bodies Hardened for War) shows this desire to recapture a romanticized past, to emulate a connection to something valuable that was lost, or at least perceived to be. Just as medieval knighthood glorified the mythical versions of the adventures of Alexander the Great, or idealized the physical attributes of Arthurian tales, emulating the “ancients” was a way of connecting to an idealized version of what knighthood was supposed to mean, regardless of whether that connection was real or imagined.

In other words, my “self-serving” desire to romanticize and emulate history is, in fact, historical. At the end of the day, this drive is very human. Framing the reality of human nature is the true value of this experiment.

[The following gets into the nitty-gritty of the experiment, including weight loads and physical conditioning beforehand. If you only want the basic summary, skip to the last section, “So What Does This Activity Even Mean?”]

Location

Charles had picked Greenbrier Park Running Track, a public track that made distance calculation very easy. More importantly, it alleviated many safety concerns. In the event of any emergency (twisted ankle, health complication, or even simple armor failure that would have prevented completion) we were never far from our vehicles, we were able to stash emergency gear where it was easily accessible without the need to carry it, and in the event of an extreme emergency, medical or rescue vehicles could access us easily.

The park is also very modern and public, which completely removed any sense of role playing or imaginary reenactment (to quote Charles, “All of the pain, none of the immersion!”). We were there to conduct a specific experiment and complete the task. Naturally, we also were frequently asked by various onlookers what on earth we were doing. We did our best not to let it slow us down, and were able to say, “We’re doing a science experiment about medieval military marches, sorry, gotta keep moving!”, which satisfied everyone’s curiosity well enough.

Footwear

The track required that we wear rubber soled shoes, otherwise I would have worn my medieval footwear. Having said that, I wore Xero shoes, a brand of thin soled, minimalistic modern shoes, which kept in the spirit of the minimalistic construction of period shoes.

I had originally started wearing this style of shoe in my daily life two years ago to condition my feet for the Feldlager 2023 event. I knew I’d be marching and running in full armor through the forest and on uneven fields for multiple full days in period shoes, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t have a foot or ankle injury from being used to modern shoe structure. I’d been pleasantly surprised by how much stronger my feet and calves were that I continued to wear them daily, including for jogging and weightlifting. Having already been conditioned to minimal shoes makes a big difference to how well the foot and leg muscles can handle the strain.

Weight

Bill total weight: 57 lbs

Breakdown:

-Armor, 42.2 pounds (cuirass, full arms, full legs, pauldrons, open faced sallet) I did not wear mail, a bevor, gauntlets or sabatons.

-Belt and accessories, 4.6 pounds. My belt carried my sword and scabbard, a sharp knife (for emergencies, particularly if we needed to cut someone’s armor points off) and a belt purse for my keys and wallet.

-Clothing, 4.6 pounds. (Shoes, hose, shirt, doublet, wool mittens, wool hood)

-Water costrel, 2.3 lbs.

-Shoulder bag, 3.3 lbs. This included snacks (some cheese, dried meat, bread, apples), my phone, and various emergency items (glucose pen for diabetic emergencies, extra ties for armor failure, mylar blanket in the event of a cold weather emergency, linen “snot rag” for the cold weather runny nose).

Total Weight Carried: 57 lbs

Body Weight Without Gear: 173.6 lbs, measured the morning of the march before eating or drinking.

Armor Load Ratio: ~24%

Total Load Ratio: ~33%

Charles total weight: 55.9 lbs

Breakdown:

-Armor, 47.9 lbs (cuirass, full arms, full legs, spaulders, mail standard) No mail beyond the standard, no sabatons, no gauntlets, no bevor)

Belt and purse: 2 lbs (purse held keys, wallet, knife and phone) No sword.

Clothes: 6 lbs  (Doublet, shirt, shoes hose)

Body Weight Without Gear: 200 lbs.

Total Load Ratio: ~28%

Armor Load Ratio: ~24%

(note that we had a number of other emergency items and first aid set to the side of the track that we did not need to carry)

Food

Not long before this march I had been diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes, and as such I needed to keep food on hand to balance my sugars, protein, fiber and fat. The food I brought was not historically accurate, but I wanted to reasonably keep within the spirit of what a soldier might eat while also keeping myself safe. I chose some cheese, small chunks of bread, dried meat sticks, and apples.

Because this all added to my total weight, I chose to keep a large stash of apple slices in Tupperware containers at the side of the track that I could casually snack on throughout the day. Arguably a person on the march may have found fruit to snack on throughout the day, so I felt this was keeping in the spirit of the experiment.

Conditioning and Physical Preparation

Physical conditioning for this feat was simple but necessary. It should be noted that I already lead a reasonably active life—I walk long distances regularly, jog at least 1 mile once or twice a week, and I do daily push-ups, squats and pull-ups. I deadlift heavy weights at least once a week. I also train and fence various HEMA weapons in my free time. Despite all this, I would not consider these activities alone good enough conditioning for this type of activity.

Two months before the experiment, in preparation, I increased my jogging distance to 3 miles, and occasionally doubled this if time permitted. I also started adding weights to my squats once per week to make sure that my core muscles and thighs could handle the extra load.

The one thing I did not do to train for this was to go long distances in armor. The reality is that long distances while carrying extra weight isn’t actually good for your joints. To do it occasionally is completely fine, but to do it on a regular basis is risking unnecessary injury, especially for someone my age or older. I do, however, wear my armor frequently enough for HEMA training that I am very familiar with moving in it as well as functions and common failure points, which is important for preparation.

Cold Weather

Somehow, despite a week of beautiful spring days before and after the experiment, we managed to pick the one day of freezing temperatures. We arrived in the morning at a bracing 21 degrees Fahrenheit (-6.1 degrees Celsius), which gradually rose to 38 degrees (3.3 degrees Celsius) by the late afternoon.

Freezing temperatures are bad when wearing armor. Heat escapes the steel very rapidly, making the metal incredibly cold to touch, and when you move and touch the metal it sucks the heat out of you. Despite this, we found that we did not need our heavy wool outerwear over our armor, as the day was sunny and our pace was brisk. The cold was bearable, and the only issue was helping each other put our plate armor on, as we had to take our gloves off to tie the points. Holding the metal in those temperatures was very unpleasant, to put it mildly, but beyond that we managed just fine.

Problems incurred

I experienced two problems over the duration of the march.

As mentioned above, I had been newly diagnosed with diabetes and recently started wearing a glucose sensor, which is subcutaneously inserted into my arm at the triceps. I had not yet tested wearing my armor for long periods of time over the sensor, which was enclosed by the rerebrace (the upper part of the arm harness). About an hour into the march the signal was lost, which was potentially dangerous. To solve this, Charles helped me remove the one arm harness, and I carried it in my bag so that I did not change my total weight. The signal quickly returned and I could safely keep track of my glucose levels.

The second issue arose after a few hours of marching. The points holding my leg harness would repeatedly loosen drastically, or even become untied, so that they were held up more by my greaves than my arming doublet. This simply required retying them, although it kept happening periodically no matter how tight the knot. It was annoying, but not insurmountable. I ordinarily wear a mail brayette (but not for this experiment) and I had never experienced this issue before, so perhaps I need to look into different points for when I am not wearing mail.

A very interesting sidenote about this last problem: Whenever my cuisses would sag, I never noticed in the moment until I actually looked down. After the problem was fixed, I would notice that my leg load would feel lighter, but it wasn’t a drastic difference. Anyone with experience wearing armor will tell you that the weight of your leg harness must be properly distributed on your waist. My cuisses and greaves, however, are custom made bespoke pieces by Davis Reproductions, fitted correctly to my body shape. The fact that I could have marched on and ignored the point failure with only a little discomfort says a lot about the difference between properly fitted armor versus poorly fitted “off the rack” armor.

Physical Impact Afterwards

The overall experience was absolutely challenging, but not completely excruciating. I finished in good spirits and felt great, though I’ll confess that when I would sit down it was really hard to motivate myself to get back up again. The following day I was sore but completely functional. My foot muscles hurt the most, but once I started moving around it didn’t interfere with my daily life at all. I had some minor soreness in my legs, but this was very minimal, and some incredibly small soreness in my trapezius muscles where the straps of my cuirass rest.

On a personal level, it was satisfying to complete the physical challenge, and I gained some insight into prolonged exertion while wearing full harness which reinforced what I already knew: Physically demanding exercise in armor can be rough, but definitely doable. Physical preparation and conditioning make all the difference for prolonged armor usage.

So What Does This Activity Even Mean?

From the get go, it is easy to write off this experiment as flawed. A mounted knight would almost never have a reason to walk this distance in full armor, and even armored foot soldiers often did not wear leg armor. This is a completely impractical exercise, and doesn’t tell us anything about real life military marches of the 15th century… and yet, it still tells us something of the mindset of a medieval man at arms. Vegetius’s words clearly held weight in the medieval mind, considering the frequency of ownership of his translated book amongst late medieval personal libraries. The march he wrote of is a clear benchmark of the feats of “the ancients”. It is tangible, it is accessible, and as Charles and I proved, it is achievable. A knight who could perform this feat could proudly feel connected to their warrior lineage. And why does that even matter to those of us who study history?

Performing physical feats of the ancients was certainly a way to test one’s ability, but there is more than that. Much like performing deeds to gain the intangible currency known as “honor”, this type of feat gained the currency of “clout”. Winning tournaments and performing acts deemed honorable amongst the warrior class was a method of gaining favor amongst peers and even potential employers. A knight who could perform the deeds of the ancients was a knight who could claim expertise that a common conscript could not, and the currency of clout could be exchanged for influence. Just as today many would-be influencers flock to posting on social media in an attempt to funnel attention to their own messages, the medieval knight looked to show peers that their deeds were noble and worth paying attention to. In the end, the human experience is so often about the image we project of ourselves, whether to others or simply to our own self-image, and very often we compare and contrast that image to an ideal that may or may not be realistic. Even in the modern world we romanticize warriors of the past, and there is every reason to believe that those warriors of the past did the same.

-Bill Grandy