Stories to tell before a marathon

Let me introduce you to Carrie Dietiker, although you might be familiar with her already, depending on where you commute.

She's quite literally the face -- or at least one of them -- of the LaSalle Bank Chicago Marathon.

There are two pictures of her plastered on a giant mural that has been painted on a building overlooking the Kennedy Expressway.

One picture is on the wall that faces east, one on the wall that faces south.

The mural, which celebrates the marathon's 30th running Sunday, also includes images of 14 other runners -- all of whom have some kind of interesting personal story.

Dietiker says her trump card is that she has persevered through some nasty chronic injuries to run the marathon and that she also works for LaSalle Bank, which is sponsoring its 14th and final marathon

The bank was recently bought out by Bank of America.

"If you're driving north on the Kennedy, you can see me twice," chirped the 25-year-old Dietiker, a native of far West suburban Elburn. "I'm wearing two different outfits and my hair is different in each picture, so it looks like I'm two different people. But some people have still been able to tell it's me.

"People who didn't even know I was doing the mural have called and been like, 'Was that you on that mural?' It's pretty neat. It definitely makes this marathon even more meaningful for me."

• Every day is meaningful for Deanna Arnold of Massachusetts.

Fifteen years ago, she was given five years to live.

That she is still here today and is, of all things, running marathons, is a miracle beyond her doctors' wildest dreams.

"I'm their star patient," Arnold said with a laugh. She'll be running her first Chicago Marathon on Sunday, and her fifth overall. "I once overheard my doctors telling each other that I was going to be a vegetable."

That was back in 1992 when a then 23-year-old Arnold thought she had the flu and self-medicated with some Tylenol and other over-the-counter medications.

A friend who was checking on her noticed that her coloring and demeanor just weren't right and urged her to go to the hospital. Upon arriving, she was told that she had just 48 hours to live if she didn't get a liver transplant.

Apparently, a virus that had been attacking her liver reacted badly with the medicines she was taking and her liver began to fail. She was put on the top of the national transplant list and luckily, a match was found in time.

But Arnold's troubles were just beginning. The liver failure caused a lack of oxygen to Arnold's brain and her brain swelled so much that doctors had to drill a hole in her head to relieve the pressure.

"I died three times on the operating table," Arnold said. "That's what they tell me. I don't remember any of it."

Arnold didn't remember a lot of things when she finally came to. Turns out, all that pressure damaged the short-term memory area of her brain.

"I could remember things from five years ago, but not 15 minutes ago," Arnold said. "I forgot how to read, how to tie my shoes. People thought I would never be able to do anything, let alone live by myself."

But Arnold and her father, who quit his job to care for her, refused to accept that fate. And eventually, after countless hours of therapy and rehab, Arnold left the hospital, moved into her own place and got a job.

"The area of my brain that controls short-term memory will never be the same. I just retrained a different part of my brain to remember things," Arnold said. "It was a lot of hard work."

Now, Arnold pours her energy into training for marathons so that she can raise money for the foundation she created. "Dare to Be Alive Foundation, Inc." gives assistance to transplant donors and recipients.

"Running is my therapy now," Arnold said. "When I'm out there, I don't have to think about bills or about all the meds I have to take. It's just about putting one foot in front of the other, and I love that."

• Amy Palmiero-Winters of New York loves running so much that she wasn't about to let the amputation of her left leg stop her.

When she was 21 in 1994, a car pulled out in front of her motorcycle. Palmiero-Winters was lucky she wasn't killed.

But her left leg was crushed, and she endured 27 surgeries before doctors told her there was no hope.

Palmiero-Winters, a serious runner before her injury, wanted to do one last marathon before the procedure. And somehow, on a left foot that was left stunningly tiny from all the damaged bones that had been removed, she completed the Columbus, Ohio, marathon in just under four hours.

Her times have only gotten better.

In fact, ever since she got her prosthetic leg designed for running, Palmiero-Winters has clocked times that are even better than the ones she got before she had her accident.

Last year, she finished the Chicago Marathon in 3:04.16, a world record for a female below-the-knee amputee.

"If I could, I don't think I'd want to go back to my life before my accident, and having a leg," Palmiero-Winters said. "I think I kind of took life for granted. I had a natural gift for running and I never really worked at it or put forth the effort. Now, I work at it and when people see that, it inspires them.

"And if I can help others see that obstacles in life don't always have to be so terrible, that's a great thing."

50 in 50: Retired educator Joyce Brooks of Arkansas loves to travel, and she loves to walk for speed.

So the spunky 60-year-old got an idea. She's going to see the country via marathons. Her goal is to complete 50 marathons in 50 different states.

She's already done nine -- in California, Ohio, Mississippi, Arkansas, Tennessee, Oklahoma, Texas, Florida and Oregon.

The Chicago Marathon on Sunday will be her 10th.

Walking briskly, Brooks clocks about 4.5 mph and says her best marathon time is six hours, 12 minutes.

"I'm going to try to do one marathon a month from now on," said Brooks, who completed her first marathon in 1996 when she was 49. "I've got to get moving, and I love it.

"I really didn't start working out until I was about 38. And I have to say, I really feel healthier and better now than I did when I was in my 30s. Very few 30-year-olds can keep up with me."