We went looking for this app. It did not exist.
MyFitsy was not a business idea first. It started as a search for something to use — and the growing suspicion that the thing we kept describing to each other had simply never been built.
It began the way most of these things do: wanting a coach, and having no sensible way to find one. You ask a friend. You scroll a feed and try to judge a stranger by their photographs. You walk into a gym and take whoever is free on Tuesday. For something you are about to pay for weekly, and trust with your body, that is a remarkably bad process — and it is the process almost everybody uses.
Then, having found someone, you discover that the coaching itself lives in three places at once. The plan is a PDF. The times are in a chat thread. What you actually lifted is in your head, or a notes app, or nowhere. Your coach is guessing, and you are guessing, and neither of you says so.
So we went looking for the app that fixed it. We found plenty of good software — and every one of them solved exactly one third of the problem.
Nowhere to actually find a coach
Coaching platforms assume you already have clients. Directories hand you a phone number and stop. A single search across coaches everywhere — filter by what you need, read real reviews, apply — simply did not exist.
Nothing remembered your coach
Change coach, or take a year off, and your training history evaporates with the relationship. Nothing could tell you who you trained under in 2024, or what you were lifting when it was going well.
Measurement tracking was clunky
Either a scale weight and nothing else, or a spreadsheet with thirteen columns you stop filling in by week three. No body view, no rate of change, nothing that answered the only question that matters: is this working?
Each of those is a whole product somewhere. None of them were the same product. And they could not be, because the pieces only become useful when they touch: a coach is worth finding if you can then train with them properly; a measurement is worth taking if the person writing your programme can see it; a training history is worth keeping if it outlives the coach who started it.
So we stopped waiting for someone else to build it.
What that meant in practice
Three decisions, made early, that the rest of the product hangs from.
- The search comes first. Coaches get a public profile in a search clients actually use, across 196 countries — free to be listed, ranked by what clients thought rather than by who paid, and no commission on anything they charge. A platform that charges coaches to be found is not solving the problem, it is renting it back to them.
- The record belongs to the person who made it. Your measurements, your workouts, your goals and every coach you have trained under stay in your account. Change coach and you keep all of it. Your coach can read what you log; they cannot edit it, and they cannot take it with them.
- Two apps, not one with a switch. A client should open the app and be told one thing — what am I doing today. A coach needs a planning surface. Combining those means both people wade through the other's tooling.
What we will not do
Health data is not a growth lever. There are no advertising networks and no third-party analytics in either app, body measurements are treated as special-category data under Article 9 and processed only with your explicit consent, and everything is hosted in the EU. We do not sell placement in coach search, because a search result you can buy is worth nothing to the person reading it.
Who is behind it
A small independent team, working from Estonia. MyFitsy is built by Hoovus Kinnisvara OÜ, registered in Estonia (reg. 16775200) — the company details and the data-controller information are in the terms and the privacy policy.
Small has consequences, and mostly good ones: when you email support@myfitsy.com you get a person, usually the one who built the thing you are writing about. It also means the fastest way to change MyFitsy is to tell us what is missing. That is not a platitude — several of the things in the app now exist because somebody described an ordinary bad afternoon.

