You should be able to argue with the plan
Every session ends with a short written note, not a verbal summary that evaporates on the walk to the MRT. If a lift feels wrong, or a slot in the week is fiction, we expect you to say so. The plan is a draft. Pushing back is part of the work, not a lack of commitment.
We would rather rewrite a Tuesday session than watch you skip it for a month and then apologise. Disagreement is information. It tells us what the week can actually hold.
Assessment before prescription
We do not hand over a split routine at the first meeting. The ninety minutes come first, and the first week of training is built from what we saw, not from a template named after a body part. People who already train hard still sit through the same screen. Familiarity with a gym is not the same as a current picture of how you move.
If the assessment says the useful work is walking, sleep, and two short strength sessions, that is what we write. Intensity is earned by tolerance, not by the calendar.
Small loads, long horizon
We add weight in increments that look dull on paper. A two-and-a-half kilo change that you can repeat is more useful than a jump that leaves you sore and cautious for ten days. The first eight weeks are for finding the dose, not for a photograph.
This is also how we treat people who are already strong. Stalled numbers are more often a recovery or scheduling problem than a need for a new exercise library.
We write things down
Loads, repetitions, what was skipped, and a simple readiness score from one to ten sit in the same note. At the eight-week review we read those notes next to the first assessment. Memory is a poor archive. The paper is the record we both use.
You keep a copy. If you later work with a physiotherapist, you can hand them the same pages. We do not keep a private version with different numbers.