Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed

Okay, that was by far one of the most unpleasant physical experience of my life. Granted, I've been very lucky in life and the list of physically unpleasant experience is pretty short:

- four impacted wisdom teeth (one lodged in cheekbone) removed by insane dentist who did not send me to an oral surgeon but gave me a dozen shots and 3 1/2 hours of the floaty gas.

- puking with stitches in my mouth the night following 3 1/2 hours of floaty gas

- a crown that was not supposed to hurt since it was not a root canal

- peeing after having fibroid surgery catheters removed

- puking up green bile, getting tunnel vision and blacking out when I had hormone induced hyperactive autonomic nervous system issue during high school

- PHAT Camp with Jen Hendershott

Yes, Hustle Up the Hancock was more miserable than all that and way worse than even my first Soldier Field 10 Mile. The first 20 flights were the worst, I still had the crazy word hustle in my mind instead of the more realistic words hobble and huff. Climbing stairs is way harder than running. When you run and get tired you can slow to a walk, use slightly different muscles and at least still get some yards behind you while you rest and catch your breath. When you are climbing stairs and get wobbly quads and calves, you're kind of out of luck. I'm also pretty certain I know what it feels like to breathe in sandpaper.

I've always been slightly relieved not to have a gaggle of loved ones holding up signs and clunking cow bells on the side of a race course. The rules of polite society keep me from tackling the cocoa drinking, donut scarfing stranger-slugs who yell things out like "Almost there! Keep moving!" If it was my sister, a best friend or (God-forbid)a boyfriend who said that to me there would absolutely be some cow- bell-as-a-weapon violence happening.

Social constraints almost failed me though when I got to a landing and (instead of finding some peace and quiet for a quick pause and swig of water) I found a bunch of teenage cheerleaders with pompoms and boundless energy. Why were they standing on landing while the huffing, red-faced old lady was climbing the stairs?

At about level 40 I heard Fame and started to think about David Bowie. I thought about that heartbreaking 2005 Fashion Rocks performance where he looks like death warmed up with a shiner. It was the first performance after his heart attack a year earlier and I had already been thinking about heart attacks, and my odds of having one, since level 2. I won't post that performance since it is not my favorite version of Life on Mars?

So I'm posting the official David Bowie entries for the Jumpsuit Hall of Fame instead. Sometimes it is difficult to tell if the top portion of the ensemble is actually attached to the bottom, so some entries might need to be disqualified. But come on, look what we have to choose from here! If one, two or even a half-dozen of the outstanding Bowie jumpsuits are deemed a cheat, he has a one-armed one-legged leotard under his belt for Pete's sake! My only criticism is that David Bowie is more committed to fashion as a whole than to the jumpsuit in particular. I don't know if I can crown as King someone who is not committed. Does David Bowie love the jumpsuit more than he loves harem pants? Skinny ties? Over-sized boxy suit jackets?

I don't think so.

On the other hand, I have already let in Mr. Assless Chaps and it's not like Mick Jagger was a one-look man either. Even Freddie Mercury was know to wear pants every now and again.

So David Bowie, you're in.