When I first threw a leg over my own bike, I wasn’t trying to make a statement.
I just wanted to know what it felt like to ride for me.
To be in control.
To feel the road in my own hands.
I never imagined that not long after logging a couple hundred miles, I’d be staring down a trip of 3,000 miles through the wildest terrain I’d ever seen.
Utah. Horseshoe Bend. Zion. The Grand Canyon. Route 66.
Places I’d only seen in postcards. Now I was about to ride through them.
And I was terrified.
I Didn’t Feel Ready, But I Went Anyway
They say there’s never a “perfect” time to take a big leap.
They’re right.
I had doubts. I had nerves.
I had no idea if I could handle the heat, the wind, the storms, the steep drops, the long days, the unfamiliar roads.
But I kept hearing one voice in my head:
“You’ll never know what you’re capable of until you try.”
So I packed my bag, checked my gear a dozen times, and rolled out.
The West Doesn’t Care About Your Comfort Zone
The first time I hit strong crosswinds outside of Arizona, I gripped the bars so tight my arms went numb.
By mile 700, I learned to breathe through it.
By mile 1,500, I was leaning into it like a dance.
Riding through Zion felt like stepping into another world, with massive red cliffs towering above me, the road winding through canyons like a story unfolding in real time.
And Horseshoe Bend?
I parked the bike, walked out, and cried.
Not because I was tired, but because I was proud.
Proud I made it.
Proud I didn’t quit.
Proud I could finally say:
“I rode here.”
Nobody Talks About the Emotional Part
Everyone talks about the physical challenge of a trip like this: the heat, the miles, the fatigue.
But the emotional part?
That’s the hardest.
There were moments I felt completely alone, even with people around.
Moments where the weight of being “new” hit me hard.
Moments where I didn’t feel brave. I felt small.
But mile after mile, I proved myself wrong.
And the woman who started this trip?
She’s not the same woman who finished it.
This Is Only the Beginning
I don’t ride for clout.
I don’t ride to be a “female rider influencer.”
I ride because I earned this.
Because I love it.
Because the freedom that comes with each mile is something I can’t explain, only feel.
I’m still learning.
Still growing.
Still riding.
But now, when I look back at that map, I don’t see distance.
I see proof.
Proof that courage doesn’t mean you’re not scared. It just means you ride anyway.
If you’ve ever felt like you weren’t ready…
Let me be the one to tell you:
You are.
Throttle Wide Open.
