As I began my run this morning, I was distracted by the smell of BO.   Running can be difficult for me, especially as I first try to get going, so this created quite a distraction for me.  After a few minutes, the smell became more distracting, almost suffocating.  How was it that I smelled this bad already? I don't even usually smell after a long run.  What was even more disturbing, I realized, and what became even more distracting about the BO, in addition to its strength, was that it was not mine.  Yeah, not my odor.  This was a pungent, tangy cross between raw onions and jambalaya.  Worsening the situation, seemingly by every pounding footstep, was that it seemed to be emanating from the shirt, rather than my body.  Reassuring in one sense to learn that I hadn't suddenly started smelling like cajun food, it was disarming (disarmpitting?) to realize that I had a fetid creepy shirt on belonging to someone else.  I had grabbed this shirt out of the laundry basket, clearly a basket of dirty, not clean, clothes... In any event, the smell became so distracting that I had to really work to keep my mind on my jog.  Because of my time limits, stopping to get another shirt was not an option, so I kept going.    In addition to being distracted and disgusted, I became confused, almost slightly disoriented.  Whose odor was this and how did it get on my shirt?   Not to sound too dramatic, but it felt like a haunting.  Changing after the run confirmed my fears.  I smelt virtually like a daisy, while the shirt carried the odors of pig farm, sprinkled with cumin.  I tossed the haunted shirt into the laundry, thankful to be free of the smell, but worried that I had yet another challenge for my jogging regimen, just one more excuse that I didn't need:  My time was off today, my shirt was haunted.