There’s a WH Murray book about pre-WW2 mountaineering in Scotland when he talks about a day on Skye when he wakes to cloud and gloom in the valleys, but goes out onto the hills regardless where he finds a spectacular inversion on the ridge itself and has a phenomenal day.
What he takes from it is that if he’d stayed in his tent, he’d have missed out on that experience and you never know what the world has in store, but if you don’t try, you may miss something special. I prefer that as a motivator to the whole machismo, ‘man-up’ ethos.
But equally you can make informed judgements based on your own intelligence. I’ve just said no to a week of riding 100-mile days on the northern Scottish coast because the maths said that it could potentially be five days of shite weather misery and I’m still getting over a bastard virus. It might, of course, be awesome and bathed in sunshine, but the odds don’t seem good. If it had been southern Italy Id have said yes in an instant…
I’d go to Morocco given the time and choice and ride gravelly stuff btw, but that’s possibly just me. Or Nepal. Or Peru 🙂