I didn’t have a grand plan. Just a direction, a tank and a half of gas, and a loose idea of where I might stop if the weather held and my nerves didn’t get the best of me. There were moments I wanted to turn back—cold hands, hungry belly, thoughts racing—but I didn’t. I let the ride happen. One mile, one breath at a time. Turns out, some of the best rides start with no expectations and end with sore muscles, a full stomach, and a clearer head.

There’s a strange tension that builds before a trip—the kind that sits just below the surface. You’ve got the plan. You’ve got the route....