When I lived in Colorado my friend and I decided that instead of running during our lunch break we would sit in on an aerobics class. Our plan was to hide away in the back of the class, watch the ladies, and then head back to the office. No sweat—literally, that was also part of the plan. Our thought process was that if women and other lower life forms could do it, how difficult could it be? We were mainly manly men; excuse the use of alliteration.
Within ten minutes we had to peel ourselves from the floor, barely able to lift our arms and legs. What we’d viewed as an hour of simple stretching coupled with an hour of looking like mainly manly men had reduced us to a pair of whimpering sissy boys. We also learned that if you sit in the back of the class that in order to exit you had to make it past all of the ladies as you dragged your carcass from the room.
Fast forward a few decades. I went to an exercise class called spinning. Sounds a little like ballet. It’s a stationary bike. A large TV hangs on a wall. Once again the room is packed with non-males, including my wife. My take on it is that it’s a bike class for women who’d rather watch Regis and pretend to exercise instead of actually breaking a sweat. What the heck; I was already there, why not humor her. The instructor smirked at me when I asked her to tune the TV to ESPN. She inserted a CD of The Killers, cranked it all the way up, and we started pedaling. Pyramids, intervals, uphill, more uphills. Twenty minutes into it my water bottle was empty, my towel soaked. The ladies, including my wife, were chatting away as though they were walking the dog.
Not everything changes with time. Sometimes it better to participate than to watch. Sometimes it’s better to watch. Sometimes, no matter how certain one is, one’s certainty is meant to be changed. Sometimes certainty is based on bad ideas. Like the certainty that comes from knowing, “We’re doing just fine, thank you very much.”
There’s a scene in Billy Crystal’s movie, City Slickers, where the guys are on their horses and one remarks, “We don’t know where we’re going, but we’re making really good time.”
What is that everyone holds with such certitude in healthcare? The efficacy of throwing IT at the problem? The certainty that the current reform plan is the best we can do?

According to National Geographic, a single ant or bee isn’t smart, but their colonies are. The study of swarm intelligence is providing insights that can help humans manage complex systems. The ability of animal groups—such as this flock of starlings—to shift shape as one, even when they have no leader, reflects the genius of collective behavior—something scientists are now tapping to solve human problems. Two monumental achievements happened this week; someone from MIT developed a mathematical model that mimics the seemingly random behavior of a flight of starlings, and I reached the halfway point in counting backwards from infinity–the number–infinity/2.
Whether it’s vendors, Rhios, or HIEs, isn’t this what it’s all about?
You’ve probably figured out that I am never going to be asked to substitute host any of the home improvement shows. I wasn’t blessed with a mechanical mind, and I have the attention span bordering on the half-life of a gnat.
EHR, there’s a new groundswell against meaningful use. How do I know? I’m starting it now.
Do you ever think about the origination of some of your ideas? For me, the good and the bad just seem to materialize. Like the time a friend and I were hiking a peak in the Sangre de Cristo range in Colorado. It had taken the better part of six hours of circuitous climbing to reach the summit. It was late in the fall, and the temperatures were around freezing. Roiling storm clouds were racing towards us from the west.
The question was raised on the blog Software Advice.
Several have written suggesting I toss my hat into the ring to serve as the EHR Strategy wonk or czar. I was in the process of thinking it through when I was awakened from my fuegue state by a loud noise–my ego crashing to the floor.
Are you suggesting that coconuts migrate? (Not at all, but a swallow could grip it by its husk.)