Mall walking is often seen as the domain of senior citizens seeking a level, indoor path. In Portland, Oregon, a group of all ages has turned it into something else: retro spandex, sweatbands, 1980s music and a high-visibility, high-cardio parade that’s part exercise, part performance art. The group, which meets weekly, is called the Food Court 5000.
A little over a year ago, Krista Catwood started a new office job and found herself sitting most of the day. A former burlesque performer and occasional event producer, she knew any fitness habit needed to be fun, loud and social. Costumes, community and accountability became the plan.
Catwood chose Portland’s Lloyd Center, a mall that opened in 1960 and occupies about 20 city blocks in the northeast part of the city. Many stores there have closed in recent years amid a nationwide decline in mall shopping, leaving long, open stretches—and space for quirky ventures, from a wilderness skills camp to a synth library to a light-saber storefront—as part of attempts to revitalize the property.
Catwood grabbed a headset mic, portable speakers and a few friends for Sunday morning walks. She dressed in full 1980s workout gear—leotards, leggings, windbreakers and neon sweatbands—and within weeks more people joined. For Food Court 5000’s first anniversary in March, about 200 walkers turned up. Most participants now adopt the retro look as the unofficial uniform.
Before each walk Catwood lays down a few ground rules to the crowd: pump your arms in exaggerated racewalking fashion—“the international sign that you are a mall walker”—wave to everyone you pass, listen to your body, and don’t leave anyone to walk alone. Then the music starts and they go.
With speakers blasting Erasure and Robert Palmer, walkers find a groove. They high-five doors, lower their voices when passing a chess club, and wave to shoppers and security staff. At the end of each loop they gather at the escalators and treat the approach like a runway, striking poses and pulsing to the beat. The mood is exuberant.
Regulars say they come for exercise and the silliness, and for the community. Mariah Erlick calls it “a fun way to just get exercise, do something really silly, build community.” Steve Valley appreciates a place to walk even in rainy Portland winters; he remembers coming to the mall as a teen to hang out, watch movies and play arcade games. Now he power-walks past claw machines and empty storefronts.
The group is notable for its demographic range. Catwood says Food Court 5000 is “incredibly diverse”—people from eight to 80, of different abilities, including some who use mobility devices and people with intellectual disabilities. Longtime participant Libby Rice says she’s met people she wouldn’t have otherwise: “It’s a joyous space, and … it’s for everyone.” Leslie Kelinson, 81, usually leads the pack and calls it therapeutic and medicinal.
It’s also a workout: Food Court 5000 does two full loops of each of the mall’s three levels, totaling about 3.5 miles. Each session ends back at the food court, where walkers chat and share snacks in a coffee-hour–like atmosphere. Catwood says people often compare the group to church—“’Cause it’s joyous. There’s music, there’s movement, it’s a coming together, it happens on a Sunday.” She says the group is “centering joy.”
That future may not be at the Lloyd Center. Despite hosting community activities like sticker swaps, zine meetups and skating lessons, the mall isn’t financially sustainable. After more than 65 years, the Lloyd Center is scheduled to close in August. Catwood and others are attempting to appeal the decision, but in the meantime they’re scouting new, accessible locations. Whatever happens to the mall, Catwood says the walk will go on.