I was crying too hard to really see the screens

I cried for 20 minutes today about my training log. I probably would have still cried even if I wasn't pregnant. But being pregnant certainly didn't help.

I've been using the Runner's World classic log since approximately 2009. That's about 5 years worth of data: shoes, miles, races, PR's, calories etc...

I'm not as hardcore as some runners but I need to know basics such as weekly, monthly, & yearly mileage to help me assess my progress and help plan future goals. I'm also a 500 mile "time for new shoes" fanatic so I need that information as well.

The classic log did all of that and in a clean, simple format that was easy to use. I could input my data in a matter of minutes, see what I needed to see, and be done with it. easy, peasy.

Yesterday, I tried to log on. Nothing. Cleared my browser cookies. Nothing. I kept getting the same annoying picture of a half naked man running with this ridiculous smile on his face. Like anyone looks that good while running. 

In a moment of insanity, I decided to import my data to Runner's World new training log. 

Yea, that didn't go well.

So many charts, so much information I don't care about. Too many choices, decisions I have to make. If I need to watch a how to video to figure out to log my data - we have a problem.

I started to panic.

Then I couldn't find my shoe data and that's when I started hysterically crying.

I called my husband who didn't answer (which in hindsight was probably a good thing. It's never wise to call your out of town husband hysterically crying over the demise of your training log. He probably won't be as sympathetic because he's too busy being relieved that you and your children are still alive) and this was our ensuing conversation via text.

There you have it people. I was crying too hard to see. I had to take my glasses off.

It's not so much the lost data (although that really aggravates me), or the new log. It's more the change, another reminder that things never stay the same. It's the adjustment I have to make when I was perfectly content with the way things were. Now, I'm going to go to bed like the 85 year old cranky old woman I am.