20 miles are in the plan today. Physically and mentally I am prepared to run every one of them. 3 degrees with at least -10 wind chill. I open my kitchen chemistry lab and begin mixing my lotions and potions: I’m down to a single scoop of Accelerade so I dilute it to half strength and while I gloat to myself at my problem-solving prowess I manage to knock over one of the bottles and spill it all over the kitchen floor. So much for prowess. Greg looks at me like I’m nuts. “I really don’t think you should be out there for 20 miles today.” I know he’s right. My plan has five 20-milers in it and I know damn well I don’t need that many. I have nothing to prove. Boston is my “victory lap”. I’ve already done the hard part. So I make this my cutback week and modify the plan to do 10 today. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tired of the cold, the wind, the darkness. Of having to wear my trail shoes all the time. Of losing feeling in my nose and ears when I’m running into the wind. My fuel belt is under my jacket today to hopefully keep my stuff from freezing solid. I’m down to my last 2 gu’s too. Vanilla and get this: “unflavored”. Could we be any less exciting? I feel a bit guilty about deviating from the plan. Maybe I should head to the Y afterward for a cycling class? Instead I decide to charge up all the hills on my run. In keeping with my THWIT strategy, I arrive at the “King” at mile 7 and do 2 miles worth of hard-charging repeats. Honestly the biting wind on the downhill is far worse than the charging part. Especially since Greg has now added the theme from the Budweiser commercial to my Ipod. “Don’t hold back” plays as I summon my inner Devin Hester and blast up the hill. As I approach the top I hear a small dog yapping and see it and its owner at the top watching me. I turn back and head down, hoping they’re gone by the time I come back up. They are. I finish up and head for home with the wind at my back. Overall a good run.