CMU School of Drama


Wednesday, August 31, 2016

He can't move on his own, but that doesn't mean he can't train master divers

LA Times: Dressed in a metallic-blue Speedo and well-oiled against the sun, Lenny Larsen reclines poolside in his power wheelchair. Larsen loves the midday warmth. A slight breeze musses his wispy blond hair.

Two divers, eager for his advice and counsel, wait at the foot of the one-meter springboard. Kevan Roche climbs on top and collects his thoughts before attempting a front 1½.

“Right foot, left foot, knee up high,” Larsen says. “You’ve got the steps, but where do I want your arms to be?”

5 comments:

Unknown said...

As a former competitive dancer who recently had to stop due to a lasting injury from an ill-performed ankle surgery, this article speaks volumes to me. Larsen's ability to not only work through injury but to also take a horrible situation and squeeze out the light in it is something that I push myself to do every day as I try to regain foot strength. Despite the severity of his injury, Larsen has chosen to continue to dedicate his spirit and wisdom to the world rather than sit by himself in depression and pain. The tranquility and happiness that he receives by simply being at a pool's edge is one we all ought to look up to. Randy Pausch once said that 'We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand', and Larsen is doing exactly what Pausch did - he's turning his losing hand into a winning one.

Brennan Felbinger said...

Psychologically, it would be very challenging for me to be confident about diving while being taught by a person who serves as a constant reminder of what can go wrong in just a few seconds. However, I also recognize the value in having to have that very real reminder present in my mind. It would still be quite difficult for me to remain brave and fearless at the end of a diving board when I know at any moment I could end up like Larsen. I'm not sure if that's simply my own personal lack of mental fortitude, in which case I probably just simply wouldn't be strong enough to dive in the first place, or if it actually just takes a special breed of person to be able to handle the stress of the sport. It would be interesting to get a little bit more from the perspective of divers themselves to hear what they would have to say beyond just the coach's talents.

Rebecca Meckler said...

This story is truly amazing. It is astonishing that Larsen has hope after such a tragic injury. Its also inspiring that Larsen has decided to become a trainer. I think it's interesting that in the article, they say divers should not to trust their eyes. What the eyes perceive is not helpful to the divers. It must require an extreme about of trust to believe that your body knows what to do without the assistance of your vision. Yet when they said how fast the divers mover, 35 mph and only 2.2 seconds, not trusting one's eyes begins to make sense. By the time a person reacted and tried to change the dive, the dive would have been completed and the person only could throw themselves out of their form. Also, the divers need to have a lot of trust to allow Larsen to correct them. It must be extremely scary to put your dive into someone else's hands because if the dive is done incorrectly, it could cost someone their life, as it almost cost Larsen

Unknown said...

I had the pleasure of sitting down and having dinner with Lenny last fall during the SATE conference that was held here at cmu. I was incredibly impressed with his sense of purpose and his accomplishments in turning a life altering injury into an opportunity to explore new paths rather than letting it slow him down. Lenny had given a talk earlier at the conference about how we can better cater to those with disabilities specifically in theme parks. I suspect his own disability may have highlighted some of the difficulties faced when trying to experience theme parks but the incredible part about Lenny is that rather than simply turning away from something he loved he made it his goal to make that experience better, not only for himself, but for everyone who struggled with a disability. It’s not every day you meet someone with that much drive, nor such a good heart, but I’m glad I did and wish him the best of luck in all of his future endeavors.

Amanda Courtney said...

Even at its most superficial level, this is an incredible story about the endurance of the human spirit. But it also provides keen insights into the value of verbal communication. When trying to convey an idea, I often resort to "show, don't tell". Demonstrability is a key asset when striving to achieve precision when articulating something like a concept, or instruction. However, Lenny Larsen has to rely solely on his power of speech.

"Being an effective communicator" is an often cited goal and meta-skill. I sometime wonder if being able to access a variety of methods of communicating - while useful - is somewhat limiting in that it allows for less skill and genuine adeptness at each kind of communication to be weaker. We often counter our deficiency is one kind of communication by simply utilizing another. This practice, though valid, never truly forces us to confront and hone our ability to communicate.