热水瓶多少升-度规

Nikolai Petrovich Anikin was not half as intimidating as I had imagined he would be.
No, this surely was not the ex-Soviet coach my father had shipped me out to meet.

But Nikolai he was, Petrovich and all.
He invited me inside and sat down on the couch, patting the blanket next to him to get me to sit next to him.
I was so nervous in his presence.

"You are young," he began in his Russian-style English.
"If you like to try for Olympic Games, I guess you will be able to do this.
Nagano Olympics too soon for you, but for 00 in Salt Lake City, you could be ready."

"Yes, why not?" he replied to the shocked look on my face.
I was a promising amateur skier, but by no means the top skier in the country.
"Of course, there will be many hard training sessions, and you will cry, but you will improve."

To be sure, there were countless training sessions full of pain and more than a few tears, but in the five years that followed I could always count on being encouraged by Nikolai's amusing stories and sense of humor.

"My friends, they go in the movies, they go in the dance, they go out with girls," he would start. "But I," he would continue, lowering his voice, 0"I am practice, practice, practice in the stadium.
And by the next year, I had cut - minutes off my time in the -kilometer race!

"My friends asked me, 'Nikolai, how did you do it?' And I replied, 'You go in the movies, you go in the dance, you go out with girls, but I am practice, practice, practice.' "

Here the story usually ended, but on one occasion, which we later learned was his th wedding anniversary, he stood proudly in a worn 0woolen0 sweater and smiled and whispered, "And I tell you, I am years old before I ever kiss a girl! She was the woman I later marry."

Romantic and otherwise, Nikolai knew love.
His consistent good humor, quiet gratitude, perceptivity, and sincerity set an Olympic standard for love that I continue to reach for, even though my skiing days are over.

Still, he never babied me.
One February day I had a massive headache and felt quite fatigued.
I came upon him in a clearing, and after approximately minutes of striding into the cold breeze over the white 0powder0 to catch him, I fussed, "Oh, Nikolai, I feel like I am going to die."

"When you are a hundred years old, everybody dies," he said, indifferent to my pain. "But now," he continued firmly. "Now must be ski, ski, ski."

And, on skis, I did what he said.
On other matters, though, I was rebellious.
Once, he packed 0 of us into a Finnish bachelor's tiny home for a low-budget ski camp.
0We awoke the first morning to find Nikolai making breakfast and then made quick work with our spoons while sitting on makeshift chairs around a tiny card table.
When we were finished, Nikolai stacked the 0sticky0 bowls in front of my sole female teammate and me, asserting, "Now, girls do dishes!"

I threw my napkin on the floor and swore at him, "Ask the damn boys! T
his is unfair." He never asked this of me again, nor did he take much notice of my outburst.
He saved his passion for skiing.

When coaching, he would sing out his instructions keeping rhythm with our stride:"Yes, yes, one-two-three, one-two-three."
A dear lady friend of my grandfather, after viewing a copy of a video of me training with Nikolai, asked, "Does he also teach dance?"

In training, I worked without rest to correct mistakes that Nikolai pointed out and I asked after each pass if it was better.

"Yes, it's OK. But the faster knee down, the better."

"But is it fast enough?" I'd 0persist0.

Finally he would frown and say, "Billion times you make motion—then be perfect," reminding me in an I've-told-you-a-billion-times tone, "You must be patient."

Nikolai's patience and my hard work earned me a fourth-place national ranking heading into the pre-Olympic season, but then I missed the cut for the 00 Olympics.

Last summer, I returned to visit Nikolai.
He made me tea... and did the dishes! We talked while sitting on his couch.
0Missing the Olympic Team the previous year had made me pause and reflect on what I had gained—not the least of which was a quiet, indissoluble bond with a short man in a tropical shirt.

Nikolai taught me to have the courage, heart, and discipline to persist, even if it takes a billion tries.
He taught me to be thankful in advance for a century of life on earth, and to remind myself every day that despite the challenges at hand, "Now must be love, love, love."

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