Look closely: this is a towel wrapped around her neck inside a warm-up jacket. Yes, that's what Jessica wears jogging.
And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, you’ve clearly never been a “Murder She Wrote” fan. You should probably stop reading now, before this post makes you dumb.
Oh Lord, this is a shameful admission. Christmas evening, trying to wind down from a fun and full day, Alan and I tapped into one of our favorite guilty pleasures: crawling into bed to watch a streaming movie or TV show. We were both fidgeting and exceptionally tired, so that’s the only way I can explain our <my> choice for viewing: the pilot episode of “Murder She Wrote.”
If you enjoy bad television, then let me tempt you: the pilot episode of Murder She Wrote is nothing short of a train wreck, including an absurdly long title sequence that features Angela Lansbury (aka “Jessica Fletcher”) jogging or riding a bike all over Cabot Cove, a small fictional town in Maine.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but generally the only seniors I see running are the ones who have made it a lifetime habit and aren’t packing any extra pounds. I’m willing to suspend disbelief and pretend this woman got a book published by a lark, but ask me to believe she’s a runner and you lost me at hello.
As for the show itself: how it ever got picked up as a series is beyond me. Must’ve been different viewing standards then (or the aging Boomer population at play), because these days I think you’d be hard-pressed to center a show around an overweight senior citizen.
The sex they included (or alluded to) in this episode wasn’t so much gratuitous as it was vomuitous. (<–new word alert!)
It included: Jessica winking seductively, Jessica lip-kissing an older man (who you can pretty much guess is going to be the killer since the premise of the show is built on a widow who writes books and solves mysteries to keep herself busy), and a reference to “bedroom olympics” to suggest two characters are having an affair.
And yet… I watched the entire 90 minute pilot. Why? Because there are some things – no matter how bad they are – that take you back to a specific time in your life like nothing else can. There I sat, watching Jessica Fletcher solve a mystery, and it was 1986 again.
pithypants 
I’m so glad you owned that fiasco. The two-minute intro showing nothing but her jogging around was pretty funny, though. It was like the Beverly Hillbillies spending the entire opening playing chess.
Nice pull for irony.