It's Saturday night, I'm bored and I have an incredible amount of uninspired stories to share with you

On Monday (and mind: today is Saturday) I did stairs instead of the treadmill because some blasted idiot took the safety device that hooks onto one's person and then onto the treadmill so that if said person starts to slip off the treadmill, it pulls the magnet from the safety device and the treadmill stops.
I'm not sure if people ever actually use this device, but the treadmill does not operate unless the magnetic thing is inserted and now the whole freaking thing is gone and so I wasn't able to use the treadmill and I did the stairs instead.  I went from the 3rd floor to the 9th floor and back down seven times.  The pain in my calves is only now just starting to diminish.  It's absolutely amazing to me that I can run for an hour or two and have no issues, but the minute I go outside of my athletic parameters I have a hard time walking or crossing my legs.
This is good, though, because obviously I have some weaknesses which the stairs will help to shore up.
Thankfully, the building manager had a magnet that fit into the safety device so I can just pop that in now, but what the hell.  Who took the safety device?  The building manager even put up a notice in the elevator asking for its return and... nada.
You know what I think happened?  Sure you do.  It's that guy that, a couple of years ago came down to lambaste me while I was on the treadmill.  That doughy, pasty, placid little fuck that lamented that my foot strikes were too heavy on the treadmill and he could hear every step I took. 
At the time (which was around dinner) I said to him "Oh, sorry.  Were you sleeping?" to which he admitted he was not.
Then shut the fuck up, Kenny.
Since I've been back in my place (all six weeks of it) the plug for the treadmill has been broken.  Michael replaced it.  Then I went down to find that someone had dumped something both sticky and slick all over the console of the machine.  Laughingly, the treadmill actually still ran, but the read out didn't so I couldn't tell how fast I was going or how long I was going for.
Or could I?  I could.  Because you know why?  I am a fucking nerd of an athlete and, like a Boy Scout, I was fully prepared.  I had my Timex Ironman watch and I know that if I press the "7 miles an hour" button that I am doing 8:30 minute miles and if I up it to 7.5 miles an hour I am doing 8 minute miles.
And now the safety device is missing so the treadmill is inoperable?  Are you shitting me?
On Thursday, even though I was totally sick, I went down to run on the treadmill because I'm deranged.  I did it at dinner time.  I tried to run as heavily as possibly.  After 20 minutes when I was feeling kind of ill, I hopped off to take a bit of a breather and get my heart rate down.  I hoped he was listening and was like "thank god she's done". 
And then I got back and ran some more.
I'm going to buy so many magnets to fit that treadmill...