Building in Public: Turning Vulnerability into Community

September 2023. FitWoody was launched after an absolutely crazy August: a month of express development, one of those where time seems to stretch and shrink at the same time. I remember the hot nights, the laptop glued to my skin, and that tingling in my stomach knowing we were building something special, even if it still had no shape.

“Even though FitWoody was born from our idea, it was the people who made it grow.”

Every time we posted something on Twitter or shared an update, someone would contribute a suggestion, spot a bug, offer a brilliant idea… And almost without realizing it, FitWoody stopped being “our app” and became a shared project, where everyone could leave their mark.

I can’t count how many times we changed things because someone asked us to, or because we saw it made sense for more people. Everything was moving so fast there was barely time to think. But it was fun. And, above all, it was deeply human.

The Mistake of Going Silent

And just when it seemed like everything was taking off, we stopped. We let the inertia of everyday life take over, went back to coding in silence, and, without noticing, started building without telling anyone.

“The community, that energy that moved everythin, started to fade.”

Between other projects, clients, and a 2024 I wouldn’t wish on anyone, FitWoody became a little orphaned. We tried again and again to get back to it, to design, to write, to feel that spark again. But life swallowed us up. Time flew by. And what was once a constant conversation with users turned into a silent monologue in front of the screen.

No Spark, No Playground

Summer came back, as always, with its forced pause and that “anything is possible here” feeling in our little house in the Alicante mountains. And, of course, the classic: let’s do something, let’s bring FitWoody back, let’s revive that project that had brought us so much joy.

But this time, something was different. We wanted to, yes, but the spark was missing. Ideas didn’t flow, nothing we made felt right, and even our “playground” that space where we used to experiment and play without fear of messing up, felt a bit distant.

We’d look at each other and think: “Where were we a year ago, and where are we now?” FitWoody was still our app, but we weren’t the same. There was exhaustion, doubt… and, even though we knew there were people out there waiting for something new, we just couldn’t find a way to start.

Rediscovering Joy (and the Team)

Then came 2025, and although everything was still upside down, the energy began to shift. Asier had the chance to join the Product Management course at Tramontana, and what he found there was much more than theory or frameworks: it was a whole new way of seeing technology, of understanding product… and of reconnecting with joy.

I remember the graduation like it was yesterday. Jokingly, I told him that “Iñigo had saved our marriage.” That’s an exaggeration, it was never in danger, but anyone who’s seen us work together knows that when we’re aligned, we’re dynamite. The problem was, we’d been running on empty for too long, each in our own lane, and we needed that spark to find each other again.

And so, almost without realizing, we started talking about FitWoody again. But it was different now: we didn’t just want to make “another app,” we wanted to build something that truly made sense for people. And that’s when, finally, we started looking outward again. We went back to the community.

Coffee, Calls, and Validation

We started slowly. No big announcements, no impossible roadmaps. We’d share ideas between ourselves, bring them up over coffee with friends, on the odd video call with people we trust. At first, that was it: intuition, trial and error, learning a little more from each conversation.

“We were back in sync, not just with each other, but with those who would actually use FitWoody.”

Looking back, I think everything changed in that moment. It was no longer just Asier and I, heads down coding. Every person we shared the idea with gave us a different kind of energy: new questions, doubts we hadn’t thought of, smiles, even that spark in the eyes when they sensed there was something here that could work.

And so, by sharing and listening, we figured out what we truly wanted to build. It wasn’t just our intuition, though that too, but that quiet validation you get when people see you understand their problem, when they feel seen.

Building in Public: What We Say, What We Actually Do

There came a point when everything just clicked. The idea was there, the motivation too, and, most importantly, the certainty that we wanted to do things differently. Instead of waiting for perfection, we decided to build in public, to share the process from day one, even if it was full of seams, doubts, and the odd embarrassing bug.

“Building in the open is exactly what we always tell our clients to do. But it’s so much harder than it sounds.”

It’s demanding, it’s scary, and, most of the time, nobody really does it. Or almost nobody. And it’s a shame, because when you do dare, when you actually try it, the learning is huge and the project transforms.

We boldly announced that version 2.0 was coming, that we were rebuilding everything from scratch, and that anyone who wanted to could join the beta, no fear. The result? A flood of messages from people willing to help, test, give feedback, share their experiences, even when the app was little more than a half-broken prototype.

What surprised me most was how quickly that network formed: users sending suggestions, asking questions, even defending FitWoody in forums and social media when someone doubted it. And suddenly, we weren’t alone anymore, and we weren’t silent either. Every day, we got emails, messages, even voice notes from people sharing how they used the app, what they missed, or what had changed in their routine. And for the first time in a long while, it felt like we were building with people, not for people.

Mending in Public, Making a Team

If we’ve learned anything these past months, it’s that showing your seams isn’t a problem: it’s an opportunity. At first, it’s scary knowing people will see the bugs, the half-translated strings, the features that sometimes don’t load, those little details you wish you could fix before anyone notices… But the amazing thing is, most people don’t show up to criticize, they show up to help mend.

In the last few weeks, I’ve personally replied to hundreds of emails, DMs, forum posts, social messages… Every single one, because I truly believe that’s the foundation of what we’re building. Sometimes people are surprised: “Do you really reply to everything yourself?” And yes, because if someone takes the time to help us, the least we can do is listen and thank them.

“Now there are testers I almost consider friends: those who laugh with me when a stubborn bug just won’t go away, those who send voice notes cheering us on, those who celebrate each little improvement even though there’s still a long road ahead.”

And sometimes I feel like FitWoody isn’t just “Patricia and Asier’s app” anymore, it’s almost a club, a little fanbase cheering us on and celebrating each step.

Community, Consistency, and Gratitude

Sometimes I stop and look back at what we’ve built over these months and I can’t help but feel grateful. Not just for the app, but for the community that’s grown with patience, drive, and above all, shared passion. Because that’s what this really is: a group of people united by the desire to do something different, to improve, to support each other and learn together.

And if there’s one thing I know for sure after all this, it’s that FitWoody wouldn’t be what it is, or what it’s going to be, without this community. It doesn’t matter if you’re the one sending ideas every week, if you just peek in to read, or if you’re quietly cheering from afar. Here, every little gesture counts, and every person matters.

So, truly, thank you. Thank you for the feedback, for the patience, for the good humor when things go sideways, and for the drive to build, even if it’s one piece at a time, something that’s truly worth it.

We move forward. Because if there’s one thing this process has taught us, it’s that it’s always worth doing it together.