Not content with beating me on land, Jess decided I should see what it's like to row on the water. So after some persuasion, I squeezed myself into a single scull and attempted to row on Clive River. It did not go well.
In a single scull, the only way to keep your balance is by keeping the oars flat on the surface of the water.
But you have to move them off the surface if you actually want to go anywhere.
Once I was in the boat and Jess let go, off I floated down Clive River, unable to move the oars for fear of falling out. Have you ever seen a constipated dog all hunched and tensed up trying to do its business? That's what I looked like.
Realising that if I didn't do something to fight the current I would end up in Pakowhai, I tentatively moved one oar slowly and managed to do a big circle back to shore whilst getting in the way of a bunch of poor kayakers - and that's where my rowing career ended.
Football's not going so well, either. Midway through an important game on Sunday (Burgerfuel Port Hill vs Indigo Port Hill) a snake jumped up out of the grass and bit my left calf, causing me to fall to the ground and roll around in agony.
Obviously it wasn't actually a snake. It was cramp, but really, how embarrassing to be taken down in the middle of a game by cramp. It's safe to say the only way I'll be at next year's sports awards is if they ask us back to host it again - and after Martin turned up in jeans, that's looking unlikely.