No not this kind of fried chicken:
No, today Emily and I stayed dedicated to our New Year's goal and went to Body Works class to work on these:
Oh yeah, that's the kind of chicken wing I'm talking about. We have recently started referring to Body Works class as "Chicken Wing Workouts". As you might guess from my blog, I would prefer to just run. I don't cross-train. And if it isn't my 2-year-old or a bag of groceries, I don't lift things with my arms in any sort of repetitive motion. I can run for 3 hours straight, but my arm strength rivals only that of a 6-year old girl. Yeah, I'm a total wimp. Body works can work my abs and quads all they want (yes, it burns, but I can handle it)... but my poor chicken wings can't take the pressure. The teacher with her 10 lb. hand weights and me, in the back, barely pumping my 2.5 lb. hand weights. Really? I can't even pump the equivalent of a cantelope? Pitiful. We're on our third week of class (we missed one week due to sick kids), and inevitably after class and sometimes the next day and sometimes even the day after that, the texts about our "Fried chicken" begin. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. This will get easier, right? Just like running got easier, right? Please tell me that this will in some way benefit my body other than just being able to lift 3 grocery bags instead of 1.