Obsessive hypochondria du jour

This week I've run twice, each time for an hour. If someone had told me a few months ago that I'd be running voluntarily for an hour at a time I'd have called them crazy. Specifically, I might have said "you're smoking crack!"

So there's something going on with my right heel. Whenever I walk I have the sensation of a mild snapping, like someone's lightly flicking my heel with a rubber band. There's no popping sound, no swelling and no pain. But it is an annoying sensation, and it wigs me out because my basic anatomy knowledge tells me this area is near the achilles tendon, which as far as I'm concerned, would be a nightmare to injure.

I'm inclined to ignore it, but I'm posting here in case one of youse has ever felt anything similar.

On tap for this weekend: a bike food tour. I'm going to bike to a farmer's market and Italian deli, and then on to a bakery. I've developed something of a bread compulsion. You know that girl, at the bread aisle at the supermarket who stands there for ten minutes, blocking the aisle, picking up every loaf, muttering to herself, putting one in her cart, staring at it and then putting it back on the shelf? That's me.

Somewhere along the way I got it into my head that I must buy bread that has at least 3 grams of fiber per serving. Well, in perusing the backs of loaves recently, I've discovered that every single damn loaf sold at the supermarket has a gazillion ingredients, all including fructose or some sort of corn sweetener. You know, I'm not entirely on the "no processed foods" bandwagon, because I loves me some Doritos, but something about not being able to find bread with a simple ingredients list bugs me. After all, bread should just be flour, yeast, some sort of liquid, sugar and maybe a fat like butter or oil, right? Even the bakery bread at the supermarket had an ingredient list several inches long.

So since I can't cook worth a darn, I'm off to buy some fresh-baked, likely wildly expensive bread at an artisinal bakery.

Oh, and, yay Spurs! I live about two miles from downtown, and sleep with my windows open. At 11 p.m. last night a wall of sound began -- shouting, horns honking -- that was a bit eerie, floating to me through my window. The city really felt united, even this morning everyone is smiling and glowing -- how interesting it is that sports can make people feel part of a community, that it can generate such goodwill and satisfaction. I didn't even watch the game, but I'm grinning like a fool this morning.