Aftermath

Did I run in yesterday’s marathon, or just watch it?  Our walk started out very gingerly.  Usually, whenever I’m sore, it’s a very generalized kind of soreness, or tightness , in my legs.  Today, it was a series of four or five pinprick sites of pain, in the center knee, back of the knee, back of the thigh, and even the lowest of the lower back. What’s that about?  Sympathy pains for the marathoners?  Residual damage from my irregular walk yesterday?  Warning signs of a heart attack?  I kept fantasizing about a massage therapist digging his thumbs into the pressure points.  I convinced myself that, whatever the kinks were, I was working them out with long, fluid strides, and by the end of the five miles, I was feeling a little better.

I was in period piece heaven last night as Downton Abbey ran for four hours straight.  Last night was the season finale, so let me catch you up just so that you’ll be ready for season 3:  Matthew, as I suspected all along, was misdiagnosed; he was actually suffering from a little-known condition called “spinal shock,” and is now walking and fully functioning.  He finally gave up the ghost of his saintly dead fiancée Lavinia, and proposed to Mary, who, in a rare moment free of self-sabotage, accepted.  Lord Grantham recognized the folly of comingling with the serving class, and accepted Jane’s resignation.  Bates was sentenced to hang for murdering his ex-wife, his sentence was commuted to life in prison, and the process of overturning his conviction begins.  Thomas blew his chance at scoring big on the black market, and, newly humbled, has successfully lobbied for the position of Lord Grantham’s valet.  (BTW, the aristocracy pronounces “valet” to rhyme with “mallet.”)  Sybil fled to Ireland and married the family chauffeur; and poor, plain Edith continues her unsuccessful search for love. 

Now let's all settle in and wait for Season 3.