The puzzle of what to wear

The past two times I've gone running, I've had an uncomfortable realization:

Those people I secretly laughed at for being so overdressed? I, right now, am one of them.

Each time I've set out in tights, a windbreaker, a fuzzy hat and gloves, I've ended the run wishing I'd left at least two, if not three, of those items at home.

One run even found me bundling the gloves and hat in my windbreaker as I slogged up a hill, the sweat pouring unchecked down my face.

I bet those drivers on Westown Parkway were totally inspired to pick up running, after watching that spectacle. (Sarcasm.)

The offending hat and windbreaker. This is my "I-don't-wanna-go-run!" face. The "too-hot!" face is much redder and wetter.

Is this better or worse than the too-cold run to which my overdressing is reacting? Probably, because overdressing at least gets me out the door. Right now, this Viking princess is more princess than Viking.

But all self-deprecation aside — I know, when I'm not alternately thinking "SO HOT" and "I hate running," that it just takes a few runs to fine-tune my winter clothing strategy.

I'll also choose to believe, in lieu of lumping myself in with the springtime windbreaker-and-earmuff-wearers, that I overheated because I ran such smart routes: The same obsession with weather.com that uncovered "feels like 35," sending panic through my veins, also showed me the wind direction.

That meant I planned my loop going into the wind, then returning with it at my back, as running gurus have advised. So when my overheated body turned around to head home, it at least stayed too warm instead of turning into an icicle made of sweat (a sweatsicle?).