Running became Kassap's ticket out of the Congo. After hiding out in a stadium where he had once trained, he managed to secure a spot on the national team for the 2001 Francophone Games, which were held in Ottawa. Once here, he escaped from the athletes village and sought asylum. He lived in a shelter in Toronto, worked in a fish-and-chip shop and raced with the University of Toronto Track Club.

Kassap won his debut marathon, the 2004 Toronto Waterfront Marathon, in an astonishing course-record time of 2:14:50. Three weeks later, he finished second in the Toronto Marathon in 2:17, then a week later won the Niagara Falls Half-Marathon. When you're struggling for cash, you don't take a lot of time off between races that offer prize money.

The next struggle for Kassap was his dream of Canadian citizenship and being able to run for Canada. It took seven years -- and the help of an immigration lawyer hired by his track-club teammates -- before Kassap finally became a Canadian citizen in August. He was allowed to travel outside Canada for the first time in April, and against a tough field finished 15th in the London Marathon, in a time of 2:15:20.

The Berlin Marathon was to be the first time he would compete as a Canadian. His Toronto teammates gathered round a computer to follow Kassap's race progress online. They were surprised when no results showed up as other runners passed milestones in the race. Did he sleep in, they wondered? A few hours later, they learned what happened.

Just before the five-kilometre mark, Kassap had collapsed. Doctors later concluded he had suffered a heart attack. Fortunately, a bystander began performing CPR and a paramedic team arrived within a minute. Otherwise, Kassap likely would not have survived. What would have happened if he collapsed on a more isolated part of the course, or on a training run?

Even so, it took 15 shocks from a defibrillator and 45 minutes of treatment from paramedics to stabilize Kassap. He was rushed to hospital and induced into a coma for three days. After two weeks in a Berlin hospital, he was allowed to return home to Toronto.

How does an elite athlete in his 20s, with no history of heart trouble, suffer a heart attack just a few minutes into a race? Doctors concluded he suffered a ventricular fibrillation, or contraction of the heart muscle, that was caused by an inflammation of his heart. The inflammation was the result of a cold virus. In other words, one of Canada's top long-distance runners almost died because he had a cold.

It's shocking to think that could happen to any runner, let alone one of the best in the country, but doctors say the sequence of events that felled Kassap is rare. And despite the big headlines when an everyday runner dies in a marathon, the risk is very small. Your chances of a heart attack increase when you are running, but the benefits of the exercise far outweigh that risk. Runners are at much less risk for heart problems than non-runners.

There is cautious optimism that Kassap will be able to make a full recovery, but he is not allowed to run again for at least three months. In the meantime, he's returned to his job as an assistant manager at a Toronto Running Room store and has been helping his teammates from the sidelines at the track club.

And he's been left with an $18,000 hospital bill. His teammates created a fund, spread the word about his predicament and donations began coming in from across the country. A recent posting at dannykassapfund.com indicates the site is temporarily suspending donations because almost enough has been raised to pay the bill.

That's welcome news. But a bigger challenge lies ahead. Canada didn't even send a marathoner to Beijing or Athens because no one met the qualifying time. But Kassap still dreams of running the Olympic marathon for Canada in 2012. After three months off, he'll have a small window in which to get back into racing form and meet the Olympic standard.

But if the past is any indication, he'll come back stronger than he was before the setback. That's been the story of Danny Kassap's life.

November 1st 2008, 6:58am.
Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina.

We were due to start at 7, but the 400 or so of us standing on the beach weren’t going anywhere. It was so dark we could hardly see each other, never mind the buoys. It is also cold…really cold. A quick calculation tells me that 40 degrees F is about 4 degrees C. I came down from Canada for this?

Looking east, thoughts of the cold vanished as we were treated to a beautiful Atlantic sunrise. It was athletes-only at the swim start on this isolated tip of land, and a feeling of solidarity and adventure filled the air. Beginners or veterans, we were all first-timers at the inaugural Beach2Battleship Iron Distance Triathlon.

Leading up to the race I was in a good place. In particular I had a strong feeling of gratitude for the opportunity to race and the support of my friends, family and fellow athletes. The women’s cross country team I help coach even prepared an envelope filled with motivational words (including some I had used on them that they enjoyed throwing back in my face!). I was truly fortunate, and I was determined to honour that good fortune with my level best.

My goal was to run to my potential off the bike. These long races are really all about the run, and although 5 previous attempts at the distance had yielded 5 successful finishes, I still hadn’t “nailed” one. Those who have been there know what I’m talking about. Things are good for a while, and then something just goes wrong. Something ALWAYS goes wrong.

My something went wrong before the race even started. I snapped the valve extender on my front tire using a borrowed pump in the dark. Tech support was swamped, and I had no spare extender - all that time and energy getting my equipment in order, then this happens. My tire still had maybe 80% pressure in it, so I carefully taped the dangling piece of plastic to the rim, and let go of my attachment to perfection. It was time to take what the day would give.

At 7:12am, with the sun making its presence known on the horizon, the horn sounded.

Swim: 2.4 miles point-to-point in a saltwater channel with an incoming tide. Fast!

The swim was like an amusement park ride. We all knew it would be fast, but when I saw a buoy fly by I thought to myself “I better not hit anything at this speed!” To see what I’m talking about, check out this spectator’s video clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PaI40uwFWJo

Drafting was futile, so I lengthened my stroke to take full advantage of the tidal push and enjoyed watching the sun come up. Out of the water, through the showers and over the mat in 50:39 – there is no way I can say PB with a straight face.

T1: 250m run to the changing tent, 100m run through the bike racks. Exciting!

I had stayed up half the night fussing with my wardrobe selection like a teenage girl before the prom. With the bike ride starting at 42F (5C) and finishing at 70F (21C), “what to wear” was a real concern. I took no chances, and donned a dry jersey over my singlet, arm warmers, leg warmers, socks and a skull cap. I had pre-packed gloves and a vest in my jersey pockets, which I would end up using as well. It took me 5:11 to get through transition, and it was worth every second.

Bike: 112 miles on dead flat roads. Cold!

This ride had scared me for months. Flat sounds easy, but I enjoy climbing and more importantly, the rest you get while descending. To train, I rode both my trainer and the flattest outdoor routes I could find. I also trained my out of the saddle riding technique on flat ground, so I could use it regularly to stay loose. For pacing I used my power tap to help me hold a steady wattage regardless of wind direction, and for nutrition I carried 2 bottles of concentrated Infinit that I mixed with water from the 6 aid stations on the course.

My preparation paid off, and I was able to enjoy a more eventful ride than I expected. I dodged road kill, got chased by a dog, rode through a traffic jam at a small town parade, and put on/took off various clothing on the go. I also peed on the bike successfully for the first time in more than 60 triathlons, which was ironic since it was the one course where it didn’t save me any time.

I have yet to finish an Iron-Distance bike course without a bad patch, and this ride was no different. Luckily, my trusty baked potato and some out of saddle riding helped reset my stomach. As my ride neared completion, I was satisfied with my effort and happy with my race selection. The course may be flat, but with a reasonable field size, I witnessed no drafting whatsoever. This was an honest ride for all.

I was also pleasantly surprised to find that the mile markers were off by 5% for most of the ride, and the end came sooner than expected. This was a blessing for me, since accurate knowledge of where I was on the course may have tempted me to throw my pacing out the window and take a shot at a sub 5 hour ride. As it was, I finished in 5:01:59 feeling great.

T2: Very compact, and done in 1:36. Quick!

After riding the last half of the course with nobody in sight, I caught a rider in the final 100m, and passed another competitor in the changing tent, who told me I was now in 2nd place. Holy cow!

Run: 26.2 miles with lots of twists, turns, and BAB’s (Big-Ass Bridges). Hot!

The excitement of T2 had me running too fast as usual, but it didn’t take long for reality to set in. The weather had gone from cold to hot during the bike ride, so I grabbed my hat and my long sleeve super-light white tech-tee. This was a good move, since there is no shade for the first few miles of the run course as you cross the first two of 6 Big-Ass Bridges. Beware of the BAB’s!

I was re-caught in the early going by the rider I passed at the end of the ride. We chatted a bit, but his pace was too hot so I let him go. I wasn’t feeling the greatest in the sun, but my running instantly improved in the shade so I knew it was a cooling issue. No problem, I can solve that – each aid station became a cooling station, where I asked the all-too-willing volunteers to drench my long sleeve white shirt with the coldest liquid they had. Worked like a charm!

The run course was interesting, with a good part of it taking place on the swampy shores of Greenfield Lake where I half expected a gator to jump out at me. Outside of the BAB’s, the terrain was relatively flat, but with lots of subtle ups and downs which could be used to change muscle groups and squeeze out some free speed here and there. Somewhere in the first lap I re-passed the runner who passed me earlier on.

Unlike open running races where even-pacing yields the best times, the nutritional highs and lows of the Ironman marathon can reward a variable pacing strategy. After easing into the run for 8 miles, I decided to run hard when I felt good, and hang in there when I didn’t. The catch? It really, really sucked to hang in there when I didn’t, and the first few miles of the second lap were of the truly awful “just give me an excuse to walk” variety.

Nutritional lows in these races have a strong emotional component. It can often feel like the world is going to end. Although it might be compounded by overheating, muscle cramping, GI distress or general fatigue, the sugar low makes things feel far worse than they usually are. Staying positive in these situations is what long course racing is all about, and I had mentally prepared for an ugly patch. I kept shuffling, eating and drinking, and believing. Sure enough, I popped out the other side.

Back in the shade of Greenfield Lake Park, I hit the 20 mile mark and started the countdown to the finish. Over the last BAB and into the last mile, I was still running strong and realized that I was finally having the race I always wanted to have. The feeling of satisfaction was indescribable, and all the sweeter for having taken 6 attempts. I wasn’t wearing a watch though so I had no idea of my time.

Finish: 100m of grass with the Battleship USS North Carolina in the background. Awesome!

When the race announcer saw me approaching and said I was finishing in 9:21, I completely lost it. That time was beyond my most optimistic predictions, even considering that fast swim course. I started screaming and pumping my fist in the air – I may have even scared a few small children. My girlfriend, mom and aunt were waiting for me at the finish line and I’m told I may have been a “bit emotional”. J

My time was good enough for second place behind an athlete from Denmark who built a massive lead on the bike course and finished in 8:47. Clearly no contest, but my race was a personal victory just the same. A personal best swim was certain with the tide and a personal best bike ride was probable with the flat course, but a 15+min personal best marathon time of 3:21:47 was a true breakthrough, both physically and mentally. I also set a personal best for recovery, avoiding an IV and eating pizza within 90min of my finish.

Post Mortem: 9:21:09, 2nd Overall, 42min PB. Wow!

Normally I spend time after the race trying to figure out what went wrong. Now I get to struggle with the harder task of figuring out what went right! I probably trained fewer hours overall than I had for previous events, but I was very specific with my preparation leading up to this race. Once race morning hit I trusted my training and made all my decisions with the marathon in mind.

The race itself was incredibly well organized, and had the feel of a mature event. The venues were unique, the course was well marked and fair, and you could tell that the communities of Wilmington and Wrightsville Beach were overwhelmingly supportive. I also have to say that the volunteers were numerous, enthusiastic, and very good at what they did. It still amazes me how they cleared the road for me in that traffic jam at mile 75 – it was like parting the Red Sea!

Huge props to race director Jeremy Davis and Setup Events for hitting a home run in the first year of this event. For those looking for a unique, fast course and a professionally staged, yet less crowded race than the large Ironman branded events, I can enthusiastically recommend Beach 2 Battleship.

Live your dreams!

Mike