I’ve been thinking about this in the gaps between learning tech and SaaS work. What would I actually build in fitness? Not what would be profitable for a venture-backed startup, not what would be Instagram-friendly, but what would actually solve the problem that ordinary people have with fitness.
The problem isn’t motivation. That’s what most fitness apps think it is. You need to get people to work out more, and they think: streaks. Badges. Leaderboards. Gamification. Motivational push notifications at 5 AM. I’m getting a medal for showing up? Cool, I guess.
The actual problem is identity and friction. You don’t struggle with fitness because you lack motivation. You struggle because you don’t yet see yourself as the kind of person who does it, and every single friction point between deciding to work out and actually working out — finding clothes, getting to the location, figuring out what to do — gives you a reason to skip.
Look at the fitness app landscape. You’ve got the content creators (Peloton, Apple Fitness+) — beautiful, polished, expensive. You’ve got the tracking apps (Strava, MyFitnessPal) — they’re mainly dashboards. You’ve got the coaching apps (Trainerize, TrueCoach) — designed for people who already have a coach. You’ve got the community apps (Fitbit, Whoop) — trying to sell you wearables and charge $10 a month for data you own.
None of them are actually trying to solve for the ordinary person who wants to do something but isn’t sure how to start, and who’s more likely to give up because they couldn’t find their workout clothes than because they weren’t motivated.
Here’s what I’d build:
A reduction in friction, designed explicitly. The app would be ruthlessly simple. When you open it, you see three things: What am I doing today? (one thing, selected based on what you normally do and what’s realistic for today). How do I do it? (a very short, beginner-friendly explanation). Let’s go. (a five-minute timer for you to get ready, put your stuff on, and start). That’s it. No metrics on the home screen. No gamification. No ads for expensive equipment. Just: here’s the thing, here’s how you do it, let’s start.
Identity over metrics. The app would explicitly build identity. Not “you’ve completed 15 workouts” but “you’re the kind of person who moves four times a week.” Not through badges, but through tiny moments of confirmation. After your third workout in a week, a gentle notification: “You’re building a pattern.” After a month of consistency, you unlock the ability to say publicly “I’m someone who exercises,” which you can show in your profile or share. The social proof is not the streak; it’s the identity. If you can say you’re something, you’re more likely to keep being it.
Work with coaches, not against them. There are about two million fitness coaches, personal trainers, and studio owners in the world. They’re the ones actually changing people’s behaviour. The app isn’t trying to replace them or become a substitute for real coaching. Instead, it’s a platform for coaches to use with their clients. A coach uploads their workout, clients do it whenever they can, the coach can see who did it and give feedback. No fancy AI. No pretending the app can replace a real human who knows you and can adjust things based on how you look. The app is just the tool that makes it easier to be a coach’s client.
Flexibility about what “moving” means. It wouldn’t privilege lifting or running or cycling. You could tell it you prefer walking, or yoga, or swimming, or dancing in your kitchen. The app would surface workouts you’d actually do, not workouts that are in vogue. You’re a 55-year-old who wants to feel stronger and have more energy? Here are things you could do. You’re a competitive runner? Here are things you could do. You’re someone who just wants to not feel like your body is broken? Here are things you could do. Not everything, not a million options. Just: here’s what’s reasonable for your context.
Why hasn’t anyone built this? Because there’s no monetisation path that looks sexy to investors.
The venture-backed fitness apps are built on one of three models: wearables (sells expensive hardware), content (charges subscription for exclusive workouts), or coaching (charges a lot for personal attention). My hypothetical app doesn’t fit any of those. You could charge maybe $5-10 a month for better customisation or integration with coaches, but that’s not a $100M business. The metrics don’t look impressive — it’s not about growth or engagement, it’s about people quietly building a practice that becomes part of their life.
And that’s exactly why it would actually work. Every fitness app is trying to be sticky in the sense of “checking it daily.” The real stickiness is being woven into how someone actually lives. You don’t need to check your app; the habit is just something you do. The app just makes it easier.
It’s also not a business that needs to be venture-backed, which is probably the real issue. A profitable but not explosive fitness app doesn’t fit the venture model. So you get apps built for growth and retention, not for actually solving the problem, and ordinary people keep saying “I downloaded a fitness app but I stopped using it.”
There’s a thing that happens when you move from corporate learning to fitness tech. In learning, we were constantly asking: How do we help someone actually acquire and retain this knowledge? How do we know they haven’t just watched the video but actually learned? How do we make it work for the person who’s visual and the person who’s kinesthetic and the person who just needs someone to explain it?
In fitness, I see the same question almost never asked. It’s all: How do we get them to use the app? How do we create a streak? How do we monetise attention?
But the real question is still: How do we help someone actually change? How do we help them build a practice? How do we make it work for the person who loves data and the person who just needs support and the person who needs to feel their body work?
That’s the app I’d build. Not because it’s profitable, but because I’ve watched people spend a decade in systems that don’t serve them, and the ones who found something that worked were the ones who had a coach they trusted, a practice that didn’t require them to think too hard, and a reason to show up that had nothing to do with a streak.