Horseshoe up my ass story #964

So I go for the 7 mile run that I was supposed to do at 8am. It's a good run except it was a lot of uphill. Enjoying the tunes. It wasn't raining. Didn't have any pain. It's all good. And a lot of pedestrians were smiling and looking all enthused to see me running which was a really unnerving because usually I only get encouraged to do bad things that will get me in trouble (I'm kidding: I need no encouragement for those types of shenanigans). I'm all but screaming "I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier" as I run up Keith Road. Life is good.
Get to my apartment building and, for the second time in my moronic life, I have taken the wrong key. I cannot get into my building. I am sweating, tired and thirsty and I'm starting to get cold. I mull over my options: randomly buzz people in the building in the hopes that they will let me in (that's what I did last time); go to Michael's in my sweaty running gear; or wait and see if someone comes in or out of the building.
I am a very impatient person. Waiting is hard. But I decide that I will suck it up for five minutes and then when I start to verge on hypothermia I will go to Michael's. Within about twenty seconds a guy comes walking to the front door. I explain my stupid key scenario and he lets me in. He asks how my run was and I say it was good. He asks me how far I went and what I'm training for and I said I ran about 7 miles and that I'm training for Boston. He asks me what my cutoff time was, so now I know that he's knowledgeable about running. I said it was 3:40. He said that he had qualified for the 100th Boston Marathon, just scraping under his cutoff with a 3:10 marathon. That's fast. He asked what I did. I admitted I squeaked by with a 3:39. Anticipating my next question he tells me that he didn't actually run Boston, qualifying was the goal and then, as I got out on my floor he wished me luck.
And my watch says 55:55.
I'm magic.