One of the unexpected gifts of doing locums work is the chance to explore corners of the country I might never have otherwise visited. Recently, I had the chance to spend a weekend with my family in Columbus, Ohio and just south of it, in the hidden gem of Hocking Hills State Park.
Columbus itself is a surprisingly vibrant city. You can fly in on a Friday evening, walk its clean downtown streets, pick from a hundred restaurants, and still have time to enjoy the city’s energy. The museums there are worth the trip alone — I often think of it as a form of “urban hiking,” just walking through a city, feeling its architecture and history.
But the real adventure began an hour south, where Hocking Hills offers some of the most breathtaking trails I’ve seen east of the Mississippi. Towering cliffs, caves carved by water, and winding forest paths make it a hiker’s paradise.
This time, I brought along my wife and three of our kids. I didn’t tell them the full plan — if I had announced we’d be walking eight miles and over 22,000 steps, I doubt they would have come along so willingly. Instead, we just set out “for a hike.” Hours later, they had pushed through five to six hours on the trail, alternating between excitement and exhaustion.
And here’s where the heart of the trip revealed itself.
At different points, my kids wanted to give up. My youngest was on the verge of tears, my daughter was clocking her steps with disbelief, and there were moments when “just carrying me” seemed like the only option. But they kept moving. One step at a time.
I found myself reminding them — and in some ways, reminding myself too — that struggle is part of the journey. Life isn’t always easy. Sometimes it’s painful, sometimes it “sucks,” but there’s value in embracing the suck, in pushing through, in persevering even when the road ahead looks endless. That’s how you discover the power of delayed gratification… at least for me.
Because when we finally got back, when we sank into the hotel jacuzzi and filled our stomachs with meat lovers’ pizza (a rare indulgence for me), the relaxation felt earned. The reward meant more because of the hardship that came before it.
That evening, after the long hike and a well-earned dinner, we headed up to the top of a hill near our hotel for an astronomy event that the park’s volunteers had set up. The air was cool—low 50s, just right for a light jacket and jeans—and the sky stretched out above us, pitch black and crystal clear. Scattered across the hilltop were half a dozen enormous telescopes, each manned by volunteers who simply wanted to share the night sky. It was all free, open to anyone willing to step up and take a look.
One by one, we peered through the eyepieces. And there it was: Saturn, rings and all, hanging in the darkness like something almost too perfect to be real. In another telescope, a double star system glittered in tandem, light-years away yet right in front of our eyes. The moon, luminous and full, revealed ridges, craters, and shadows I had never noticed before. I’ve read about these things, I’ve seen the photos, but to see them live—that was something else entirely. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, and I know my kids won’t either. Their faces lit up with wonder, the fatigue of the day replaced by pure awe.
This trip wasn’t just about discovering a new destination. It was about showing my children what it means to endure, to work hard, and then to play hard. To feel tired, frustrated, maybe even ready to quit — and to still finish the trail.
It was “Hocking” hard… but I hope they’ll remember Hocking Hills for its waterfalls, caves, and forests. More so… I hope they’ll remember the lesson: some of life’s best rewards only come after struggle.
“At the end of the day, this second shift is about more than just work—it’s about building a life with purpose. I believe in the power of showing up fully across every spoke of life—career, family, health, finances, intellect, spirituality, and joy. This space is where I reflect, recalibrate, and keep striving for that delicate, worthwhile balance. I write not just to document the journey, but to remind myself—and maybe you too—that it’s okay to want more, to give more, and to grow through every season.” — st