Margie is sharing more of her symptoms with us in the cab to the Pit Stop. "My fingers are numb, my mouth is numb," she says. Which must make it hard for her to talk to anyone, really. They're pulling into the temple's parking lot just as Mark and Michael's last few seconds tick away and Phil calls them over to be checked in as the third-place, which is still the best they've ever done. Afterward, Mark interviews, "We did have a nice lead and a trip that was in our pockets and we lost, but I still feel like a winner." Because he cheated? No, he means, "We're in third, we're still in the game, and we have a shot at a million dollars." Which makes me feel like a loser.
Margie and Luke jog up to the mat and Margie doesn't even care about their ranking right now; she just says, "All right, we need water." Margie shakes Luke's hands off her shoulders -- too hot even for human contact right now. Phil makes them wait for a while, even after Margie says, "My fingers are frozen." Finally he speaks/signs that they're team number...four. Luke loses his shit, and he and Margie hug. "The Bionic Woman has done it again," Phil grins. Luke signs, "This leg was very hard," even as Margie asks again for water, more weakly this time. She's wavering on her feet, and here's what it sounds like when Phil stops being a game show host. He says, "Okay," and calls over to someone to bring water. Luke catches her as she crumples, and Phil and some local production guys help lower her to the ground. "Mom, mom," Luke moans worriedly. No one can even tell him what's going on, unless Phil wants to look up and tell him what number they are again.
When we come back, Phil has taken over as Margie's paramedic. She's coming around, leaning against a plastic chair that someone's brought over. Phil encourages her to breathe, and then he and a production guy help her over to the shade of a nearby structure. Someone fans her with something while Phil holds her hand and slowly dribbles bottled water over her head. It's very sweet seeing him be so solicitous, but maybe he shouldn't have left her to cook there on the mat for so long when they arrived. Not that it probably would have made much difference. And of course there's also no way of knowing if having air in her tires would have made a difference. Or wearing the hat while running, or maybe drinking some water along the way, or any number of other potential variables. Someone says an ambulance is on its way, but Margie insists she's fine. "How embarrassing," she quavers. Clearly she's not feeling so bionic any more. Which is actually good, because if she were, the water that Phil's been pouring on her would probably short something out.