On traffic lights and making it to class on time

So far, every morning for a week and a half, I have woken up at 6:40am so I can squeeze in a half hour at the gym, eat breakfast and make it on time for my 8am class. On each of these days, I have left the building where I live at 7:50am (give or take 5 mins - mostly give) and turned right to walk down the block toward the traffic lights. Every single time this happens, I am forced into stress mode. Why is this? you might inquire, with raised brow. Let me tell you.
The light is always red. The little stick man in white is on, telling me it's okay to cross the road. He's giving me the right of way. No mind that I am halfway up the block at this point. Who cares that I am right at that awkward distance where I can't really give up on making the light but I am just a little too far to make it without breaking into a run? Not you little stick man!
There I am, thinking furiously in a panic, 'Should I walk faster? Can I make it in time?'
I break into a stride, with my eyes fixed on the road. I am picking up speed, navigating my way around parking attendants, innocent bystanders and incoming people traffic. In my head, a mantra is being repeated 'Please don't change, please don't change, please don't change'. Will I make it?
When I am a few feet away from the curb, when I am almost certain that I will, in fact, make The Light this morning, the orange hand flashes.
Yes...this happens every single morning. I falter, all my fears confounded. What now? This is too much to bear! If I cross, the lights will surely change mid-peregrination, putting me in the direct path of 50 raging yellow city taxis. And yet...do I dare...?
I tell you, I die every morning.