Duskline app icon Duskline
A private training travelogue

Relive the workouts you did in the places you've been.

Every run, ride, and session becomes a memory pinned to a dark map: the route you took, a photo, and a few words about how it felt. The places you've trained hum with light. Everywhere else stays at dusk, and says nothing about it.

Coming to the App Store

iPhone · iOS 17 or later

"Couldn't feel my hands. Couldn't stop grinning."

6.4 KM · 06:02 · 38.69°N 9.17°W · LISBON


How it works

Three steps, and two of them are already done

01

Your workouts are already recorded

Duskline reads the workouts Apple Health has kept, along with the routes your watch drew. Anything with a route arrives on its own, new ones included. There is nothing to start, nothing to stop, and no second app to remember to open. A session with no route, on a treadmill or indoors, is added by hand in a few taps whenever you want it kept.

02

Say how it felt

One prompt, and it is the whole product:

"How did it feel?"

A line, a photo, the name of the place. Duskline fills in what it can on its own: the sky that was over you, the hour on the clock of the place it happened in, and the name of that place.

03

Come back to it

A year later, on a different continent, you open the map and there it is: the light still sitting on the street you ran, the route still drawn, the words still yours. That is the entire point of the app.


On the phone

What it looks like

The map at street level over the Upper West Side: warm lights sitting on named streets, routes drawn along them, over a dark ground.
Lights on the streets they happened on.
One memory: a photo, the place, the weather, a note set in italics, the distance and time in mono, and the route below.
One evening, kept whole.
The travelogue: memories gathered under a place and a month, each row carrying its route thumbnail and its words.
Gathered by place and by month.
The year as a field of light: clusters of warm points labelled with the places they happened in.
A year, all at once.
A desert hike: the trace drawn on open ground with almost no roads on it, and the elevation profile of the walk below it.
The path, and the climb in it.
Adding a memory: the prompt How did it feel, with a written line under it, above distance, time, a photo, and the place.
The one prompt that matters.

What is in it

Cold dusk, warm memory

The map is the interface to your memories, never the point of them. Everything warm on the screen came from something you actually did.

The map

Lights on a dark ground

Each memory is a small warm light, breathing slowly, welded to the street it happened on. The ground you have covered glows underneath. A place you keep returning to glows broader, because you kept going back, not because anything counted it.

The travelogue

Everywhere you have trained

The same memories, read as a list instead of a map: gathered by place and by month, so a fortnight in Lisbon reads as a fortnight in Lisbon. Filter by what you were doing or where you were doing it.

The memory

The whole of one evening

The photo, the note in a face made for reading, the distance and the hour in mono, the route on the ground it was run on, and where the sun was at the time. No heart rate, no splits, no zones. Those belong to a different app.

The year

A year as a constellation

Every light of a year, laid out as a field you can look at all at once, and keep as a poster. Watch it arrive instead and the year plays back light by light, in the order you lived it, month by month. Older years are a swipe away, and now and then a memory from a year ago tonight comes back on its own.

On the home screen

Your lights, in passing

Two widgets, and you can keep either. One carries the ground you have been on lately, your lights resting on their own streets. The other is the whole life at once, the cities that keep you glowing on a dark world. Both just sit there, asking nothing of you.

Sharing

One memory, as a picture

A memory becomes a card you can send: the route on its own ground, the note, the place. What you send is yours, sent by you, when you decide to.


Not a scoreboard

There is no percentage explored here, no streak to protect, no badge, no leaderboard, and nobody to be measured against. Duskline never tells you where you have not been. The map glows where you have been and stays quiet about the rest, and the quiet is deliberate.

Chasing segments and podiums? Strava does that better, and it should. Duskline is for remembering, not ranking. The only progress this app has is a map humming with light, and the only way to get one is to keep going outside.

There is no account, and there is no server. Your memories live on your phone and ride in your own iCloud backup. Nobody here takes a copy. What does leave is a short, closed list: the ground the map draws, one coordinate for a place name, one for the weather. Never a note, never a photo, never anything read from Health. It is all written out on the privacy page.

Get Duskline

Free to use from the day you install it. One purchase, once, reaches back through every year Apple Health has already kept for you.

Free

From today onward

  • Every routed workout from here on, arriving on its own, with its place, its sky, and your words
  • Anything else, a treadmill hour or a session indoors, added by hand
  • The map, the travelogue, and the memory in full
  • A memory shared as a picture
  • Your last thirty days, brought in so the map is not empty on day one

One purchase, yours for good · No subscription · No account