Kayaking is a man’s sport.

Yeah, I said it and I can already hear the collective female groan right now. This guy must be some kind of macho-man, some chauvinistic ignoramus – well maybe I am and maybe I’m not.

Kayaking is a sport that utilizes the upper body. It exercises more muscles in your arm, shoulders and back than I can count. Since this is the case, men are naturally better suited for kayaking.

You probably think I have something against lady-folk; well you couldn’t be further from the truth. If I had my way every day would be mini-skirt Monday and topless Tuesday. I love women, if I’m not watching football I’m probably obsessing over the femininity of all you fine females. So then what does this have to do with anything?

Well when I’m not covering all of the latest happenings in Bucks athletics, I moonlight as a roving information complex at the Bucks County River Country. It may not be as flashy as Sports Editor, but it’s money in the bank.

Now, I am not the manliest of men. I don’t have strong shoulders, pulsing pectorals or bulging biceps. I don’t down six packs of beer, while chomping on a cigar and raving about twins in certain commercials (you know the ones).

Still, I felt up to the task of a little river kayaking over the summer. A race between the sexes, to find out how I stacked up against the strongest girl at River Country – my own sister.

To monitor this race we each brought along are own non-partisan referee – someone to make sure that neither cheated and that the race was truly equal.

My non-partisan ref was my best bud Jeff. My sis brought along our fellow river rat Christine. So each gender had its own officiating to make sure everything was fair and rectangular.

The first part of our competition was kayak choosing. The enemy chose what is commonly referred to as an “otter.” This is a style of kayak that forces the kayaker to sit inside. It’s safer, but you give up speed – already I could tell she was scared.

I chose the “hula,” a stylish orange kayak that allows a kayak-master such as myself to sit on top, instead of inside. This kayak is streamlined for speed, but is much easier to fall out of.

I had made a bold move choosing the hula. A statement was made that day; I would do anything not to let men around the world down.

Being my usual cocky self, I gave the competition a head start. The two ladies were about a football field ahead of me and Jeff when I began the first leg of the race.

Their lead did not last long.

My arms tensed as I paddled with fervent ferocity. With each dip into the murky water of the Delaware I came closer and closer. My muscles started to burn, but I paid no attention.

Pretty soon I and my non-partisan referee were well ahead of the girls as they struggled to even keep up.

I crashed into the water, cold and cranky, it bit at me.

Now, normally I hate swimming. In fact, I loathe swimming and water-related events, but there’s a time for pet-peeves and there’s a time for showboating.

This was a time for the latter.

Non-partisan referee and supervisor extraordinaire Jeff paddled up and held onto my kayak as I quickly untied a black sneaker hanging from the back of my boat. I pushed the kayak forward and used the shoe to tie the front of his kayak to the back of mine.

If you think losing a race to a guy in a single kayak is embarrassing, try losing to a guy pulling two kayaks – that’s exactly what happened.

There’s nothing better than adding insult to injury. If you can kick ’em while they’re down, go for it.

With every scream my muscles made I became stronger. Jeff sat back and relaxed the rest of the way. My sister just screamed from behind us as she fell into the water and tried to get back into her otter.

At the end of the trip and I had easily vanquished my female foe, she asked me how I had done it.

I replied with one word: Manitude.