I might have been the only person at the Braves playoff game with a pencil and a scorebook.

We went to Game 3 in Atlanta. The Braves lost, and now their season is over. But what an experience. I’ve been to plenty of regular-season games, and this was different. The stadium was deafening. Everyone was on their feet. Every pitch seemed to matter.

And there I was, keeping score.

I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. My dad used to take me to Macon Braves games, back when Chipper Jones was playing in the minor leagues. I learned to keep score then, and more than thirty years later, I still bring my book to games.

I rarely see anyone else doing it. But I love it.

A groundout to shortstop becomes a 6-3. I record every hit, walk, strikeout, and pitching change. Keeping score makes me pay attention to things I might otherwise miss. By the ninth inning, I have a handwritten record of the entire game.

This Sunday is the Chicago Marathon. Some Peregrune runners will be racing, and I’ll be watching on television.

Marathons are harder to watch than baseball. Thousands of people running down a road isn’t quite as exciting as a bases-loaded situation in the ninth inning. And there’s no scorebook to fill out.

But I’ve run Chicago, and that makes watching it interesting.

I remember the enormous crowds, the temptation to run too fast through the early miles, and the point when the excitement gives way to exhaustion. When a runner suddenly drops off the lead pack, I can imagine what’s happening. When someone makes a move at mile 23, I know how difficult that decision must be.

I suppose that’s what connects the two sports for me. The more you understand what’s happening, the more you appreciate the little things that other people might miss.

I’ll have my scorebook ready when the Braves return next spring. Until then, I’ll be watching Chicago on Sunday.

Good luck to everyone running. Especially our Peregrune runners.