Inspiration can come from anywhere, anything, anyone.

And when you least expect it.  To say that our family loves Cal football would be a mild understatement.  When your husband’s Fantasy Football team name is “Rose Bowl Before I Die,” you pretty much know where you will be spending all of your fall Saturday’s for the rest of your life.  You also know that there are only two seasons in a year:  football and waiting-for-football.

You’d think that after last year’s disappointing season (1-11) especially the way it ended at Stanford Stadium, Dave and his brother would have checked themselves into a therapy group.

“My name is Dave, and I am a Cal football-aholic.”

Last year when watching the games became painful at times, it was more entertaining to just watch Dave and Ed’s reactions and analyses.  I will say that after 26 years of marriage, Dave now recovers quicker from tough losses than he did when we first got married.  Perhaps it comes from maturity.

Perhaps it is an intestinal fortitude that develops from being devoted to a team that has seen more ups and downs than a roller coaster.

That is one thing I admire about my husband – his dedication to his team.  Maybe it started when his dad took him to games as a seven year old – one of Dave’s cherished childhood memories.  And then there was the Big Game in 1982 – the one with The Play.  Yes, THE play.  Dave’s dedication just kept growing after witnessing football legacy being born.

Of course, our first date was a Cal game.  Oh, and he did propose after a Cal game, too.

So, here we are six weeks into the 2014 season. Dave and Meagan had enjoyed a nice father-daughter road trip to the Cal vs. Northwestern season opener – a nail biting victory for Cal.  Well, you can bet that no one in our family has any nails left since three of the last five games have come down to the final seconds and a double overtime.  We went into last Saturday’s Cal vs. Washington game with cautious optimism because anything can and has happened at Cal games.  That optimism quickly faded with a couple of costly fumbles first quarter.  But there’s always hope.  A lot can happen with three quarters left.

No one was happier to see the first quarter end than Cal fans and my five year old nephew Parker. Upon arriving at Memorial Stadium, we happened to be greeted by members of the Bank of the West Bear Growl contest.  They spotted Parker in his Cal #21 (Keenan Allen) jersey and asked if he’d be interested in entering the contest during the game which would involve three kids roaring their way to a gigantic plush bear if fans decided their roar was the fiercest.

Funny, we had just been talking about how cool it would be to get Parker onto the field for this contest.  Interested?  Uh, yeah!

At the end of first quarter, Parker, Ed, and Dave made their way down to the field. The Bear Growl committee led Parker and two little girls onto the field then introduced all three to the 50,000 fans in the stadium.  Each child had one chance to roar his or her best roar into the microphone then the winner would be decided by fan applause.  As Parker’s aunt, I felt it was my duty before the game to coach him on his roaring skills.  I got out my iPhone and timed his first roar.  Six seconds.  Hmm, that’s not gonna cut it.  I told him he was gonna need to hold that roar longer if he was gonna win that bear.  I had heard other kids’ roars at previous games.  The winning roars were loud and long.  We practiced several more times.  Was this gonna be enough?  Did he have what it takes?

My competitive juices were flowing and auntie pride was bursting as the announcer handed Parker the mic.  And then my little five year old nephew let out the longest, fiercest roar that ever shook the city of Berkeley.  Those two little girls didn’t hold a candle to Parker Tang that day.  The bear was his.

Minutes later, father, son, and uncle made their way back to our seats with this stuffed bear that was bigger than Parker himself. Along the way, fans high-fived Parker and congratulated him on a roar well done.  For the remaining three quarters of the game, I just enjoyed watching my nephew’s simple, humble, carefree joy as he sat in his seat coloring, playing an iPad game, and petting his new stuffed bear.

I guess Washington scored a few more times than we did…okay, a lot more times.  Losing to them didn’t bother me as much as losing to some other teams because two of my dear Huskie friends crossed over enemy territory to pay me a visit at half time.  Their friendship and journey of faith has inspired and encouraged me often these last few years.  When something brings your friends joy, you can’t help but be happy for them.

I don’t remember exactly how the rest of the game played out. I just remember that Dave and Ed didn’t seem as distraught by the loss as with previous losses of lesser magnitude.  We walked out of the stadium taking turns either holding Parker’s hand or the giant bear (it was quite heavy and cumbersome).  Fans continued to congratulate Parker.  People just looked happy when they saw little Parker and his bear – even Washington fans.  Walking down Bancroft to our car, I heard “Hey, that’s the kid who won the bear!”  I even heard people chanting “Par-ker!  Par-ker!”  I don’t think I’ve ever seen my brother-in-law as proud (with exception to his daughter’s debut in “Shrek, The Musical” and his wedding day, of course).

The following morning I got up extra early to read my Bible devotional (by Oswald Chambers) before the annual San Ramon Valley “Run for Education” half marathon. I usually like to get to my race destinations early so I can get in some time for God’s Word and get “prayed up.”

It’s amazing to me how often that “Word time” fuels me when I need it most during races.

Sunday’s half marathon pre-race Word was about seeing God’s glory in the ordinary.  To do so, I have to learn to stay in stride with Him, to find His pace.  The verse that went with this devotional was not the typical “pump you up” or “do the impossible” runners’ verse.  It was simply

“Enoch walked with God…”  (Genesis 5:24)

When I think about staying in stride with God or in His footsteps, I always remember when I was five years old and trying to walk alongside my dad. I just had to stay in step with him for fear of lagging behind (then I would miss parts of his amazing stories) or running up ahead would mean I might get lost because I didn’t know where we were going.  I would have to take giant strides to be able to keep up which lasted only a few steps.  I gave up pretty quickly because it was really tiring to try to maintain that stride and pace as a five year old.

I didn’t grow up in a church-going household or one that knew anything about the Bible much less walking with God.  It wasn’t until my dad brought our family to church my sophomore year of high school that I learned what it meant to have a relationship with Jesus.  But it wasn’t until I started running six years ago that I learned what it meant to walk with Him.

This past Sunday’s half marathon was the warmest it’s been since I first ran it in 2009. As I might have mentioned in Chapter One, warm weather races and I are not exactly simpatico.  So, I began the race saying my version of Psalm 1:3

“In this heat, I will not wither!” 

As my Garmin beeped at Mile 1, I looked to see that I was ten seconds faster than my goal pace.  Slow down.  Don’t go out too fast like you did last year!  I remembered the devotional I had just read that morning and started praying “Lord, guide my stride, pace my race.”  Next few miles were right on goal pace.  I’ve probably prayed that same prayer hundreds of times in previous races.

On this day, as I ran past several elementary schools, I felt prompted to pray for each school and schools in general.  What does this have to do with stride and pace?

Back to Enoch… He walked faithfully with God…until he was 365 years old (a youngin’ considering his son was Methuselah who lived to be 969).  How does one walk faithfully with God for 365 years?  I haven’t gone 365 days without times of wavering, doubt, pride, disobedience, and self-reliance.  I’m no theologian, but maybe that’s why some folks in the Old Testament lived so long – they never went off course, off stride, or off pace with God.

As I continued to run and pray for the schools I passed by, I began to see that this is what was on God’s heart and what He wanted to show me that morning.

How many times have I run past these schools without a thought?  Maybe all those other times God wanted me to pray and I missed out because I was so focused on my own problems, goals, pace, and stride.

How many other opportunities have I missed out on?

One of the cool things about running a lot of races is being able to say you’ve run a lot of races. But how many of those are truly memorable or reveal hidden “gems of truth” along the way?  Sure, there might be a medal or shirt to remind you it happened.  And of course, your finish time – good or bad – is now recorded  for posterity.

My most memorable races are now the ones in which I ran in close stride with Jesus.

Because I kept pace with Him, I got to see and hear things along the way that I otherwise would have missed out on.  When I feel inspired, I just naturally want to inspire others.  I finished the last mile of Sunday’s race looking for runners who needed a little encouragement.  A simple “Way to go!  Finish strong!” or “C’mon, you got this!” goes a long way sometimes.

When I’m only focused on my own goals, it’s never as enjoyable.

I will remember this year’s Run for Education half marathon as the race my running Coach taught me the rewards of stride and pace.

I’ve lost count of how many Cal games I’ve attended just like I’ve lost count of how many races I’ve run. Years from now, I probably won’t remember all my race finish times or the score of last weekend’s Cal game.  I might not even remember who won.  But I will remember Parker’s roar and the joy it brought to so many – myself included.

I love the picture of my Heavenly Father walking with me…my hand in one of His and my prize in the other.