Who makes Vorlift
My name is Charles.
I'm an SAP consultant. My job is to turn a company's rules into a system that has to stay standing for ten years: it's analytical work, and it's exacting. Nothing is decided on a hunch, nothing ships that you can't justify, and a rule you haven't measured isn't a rule — it's a guess.
And I train. Six years in the gym, without ever dropping it. I got into it the way you get into a subject that never runs out: progressive overload, rep ranges, deloads, how much volume a muscle actually absorbs in a week. I read, tried, corrected, started again.
Vorlift was born where the two meet: what I learned in the gym, written with the method I apply at work. Not one more app that logs sets — a training argument, made executable and checkable.
I use it every day. Every session I do goes through it, and everything that has annoyed me on the gym floor has turned into a fix. I'm not done — quite the opposite: the more I use it, the more I see what's left.
What my job put into it
“Rigorous” is easy to write. Here's what it looks like in practice.
A rule that can't prove itself on real data is not switched on, even when it sounds obvious. A return-from-a-break detection was written, tested against a real training history, disproved by the numbers — and left switched off. It's still in the code, switched off. That's exactly the standard of my day job: what isn't measured doesn't ship.
A second example, and you can check it without leaving this site: the program scores published on the home page are written nowhere by hand. They come out of the engine, and a test compares what it computes to what the page displays — it refuses to pass if the two diverge. That looks excessive for six numbers. It is exactly why they will still be right in six months.
No investors
Vorlift has raised no money. Nobody is waiting on a return, so nobody needs your data to become valuable.
That's why “your training data stays on your phone” isn't a marketing line: it's simply what's left when no one has an interest in the opposite.
I only have two hands
That's the trade-off, and you may as well hear it now.
When you write in, I'm the one who reads it and I'm the one who fixes it. There's no support desk between us, no reply drafted by someone who has never opened the code, and no decision taken three floors up.
In exchange: things won't move as fast as they would on a big company's product. What you ask for doesn't land the following month because a team picks it up — it lands when I've had the time to do it properly. It's the person rather than the speed, and you're choosing that knowingly.
“What if you stop?”
That's the right question to ask someone working alone. Here's the answer.
Vorlift runs with no server. There's no account to create, nothing in transit, nothing that switches off the day I stop. Your sessions are on your phone, and you can export them whenever you want, into a file you keep.
An app that depends on an online service dies with the company hosting it. This one keeps running on your phone, whatever happens to me. It's the exact flip side of the “everything stays with you” choice — it costs features, it makes you independent.
What that changes for you
I answer the messages myself: hello@vorlift.com.
And what you read inside the app comes from the same person as what you're reading here — the one who'll use it at his next session.
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