Krista Catwood, also known as Vera Mysteria, strikes a pose heading down an escalator within the Lloyd Center Mall. She kicks one leg, clad in leggings the color of a blue raspberry Icee, while her chrome fanny pack glimmers in a photographer’s light. Behind her, a group of enthusiastic mall walkers wave their arms to the music blaring from Catwood’s Bluetooth speaker. “It’s fabulous, and you look wonderful!” she cries. “Everybody’s staring, how could they not?!”

Vera Mysteria is the high-energy host of the Food Court 5000, a totally free, 3.5-mile mall walk around Lloyd Center every Sunday at 11am. Many attendees dress up in their best ’80s and ’90s aerobics wear, waving to passersby as they pump their arms and lift their knees. The Food Court 5000 started last winter with eight of Catwood’s friends. By the summer, she was leading groups of 70.

Even when she’s not strutting for the cameras, Mysteria keeps things loud and fabulous during the 90-minute power walk. She’ll do body rolls to the music, wiggling her spirit fingers and cheering on her fellow walkers through her hands-free Britney mic. Before she started power-walking her way through Lloyd Center, Catwood specialized in drag and burlesque, hosting themed shows around the city. After the COVID-19 pandemic cleared out clubs and calendars, she was able to reflect on her relationship to both performance and exercise. “Movement is crucial for mental health, for physical health, so I was thinking, ‘How do I work movement into my life in a way that won’t make me want to claw out my eyeballs?’” she says. Her answer? Becoming, in her words, “the female Richard Simmons.” As told to Brooke Jackson-Glidden

I used to work at a LensCrafters in the Washington Square Mall. When you were opening up, you’d see the mall walkers arrive. They’d do these really weird moves with their strollers. I’d spend a lot of time laughing and rolling my eyes. But mall walkers have been around forever, you know? Many of us have grandmothers who mall-walked.

I’ve been performing since I was a kid. I was always a theater kid and a singer. I was a typical middle child; I needed the validation, I guess. I’ve been producing shows in Portland for over 10 years, hosting, performing. I had a David Lynch burlesque show I did for a long time, a heavy metal–themed show. I pulled way back during the pandemic for obvious reasons, but, also, I was tired. I’m a mom to a kiddo, I’ll call him high needs, and between working and being a parent and trying to be a partner, producing, singing, I was struggling to pull back. But when the pandemic hit, I didn’t have a choice. When things started to open back up again, I got to choose how to open up in the space. I get to be silly, be part of things, without the responsibility around it and the stress. It’s a lot to come up with a different costume for every single show, to promote events, you know?

I grew up as a severe asthmatic, I was in and out of hospitals, so I am not a dancer. I can strut, I can be entertaining, but I didn’t dance. I had this weird relationship with exercise—I could feel strong, but I couldn’t do a backflip. If you put me on a treadmill, I’ll be on there for 30 seconds. And it takes a lot for me to be motivated to even do it. For it to be sustainable, it had to feel like an event, the same way putting on a burlesque show feels like an event. I can get excited about good music, having fun. That’s what led me to mall walking. It felt like meeting someone and going, “OK, yes, this is going to be my person.” I never looked back.

It’s incredibly accessible. There’s ramps, there’s bathrooms, there’s water, it’s temperature controlled, there’s security. If there are people with mobility challenges, or people who don’t feel comfortable, or people who want to take breaks, there’s no pressure around it. We don’t shame at the Food Court 5000. The idea of trying to make it available and easy has been really important for me.

I’m not getting up there and pretending that I’m a super fitness guru who can do all the crazy moves. I’m huffing and puffing along with you. Because fitness has to be achievable, and people have to be able to see themselves in it. This all-or-nothing idea around fitness makes me bonkers.

It’s about joy and mental health, also. As we get older, it’s really hard to get social connection, it’s really hard to meet new people. For a lot of the people who come every week, this is their social event. You don’t have to talk to anyone, but you’re walking together, you’re waving at strangers together, people feel so good. It can feel like your own church. Life is hard right now! If you can have one day a week that brings you joy, that’s a gift.

What I try to tell people is “come in a way that feels comfortable for you.” If getting dressed up is a motivator for you, get dressed up! If that’s a barrier for you, don’t do it. Relax into it. Part of the reason I tell people to pump their arms is that it’s silly. We have this internal image of what a mall walker is. When you’re surrounded by other people who are doing it and having a good time and waving on the escalator…it’s hard not to get swept up in it.

I’m 42, I grew up in the era where you go to the mall and hang out. The teens go, they mill about, they get a soda—it was this safe, fun, weird space to be. There’s a disconnect with that now. Those third spaces are rapidly shrinking for those groups. And the Lloyd Center Mall, because of the vacancies in the shopfronts there, there is more focus on these small businesses. There’s free, shared space. That isn’t true of many other malls in the area. I couldn’t go to Washington Square Mall and do what I do here. I can carry multiple Bluetooth speakers. I can blast my ’80s, ’90s jams. I can give a tour of the mall, I can be the female Richard Simmons. At the Lloyd Center, there is such a community vibe that is so special. I know the shop owners now, we wave at them, we know each other, we support each other.

People say, ‘Mall walkers don’t support the businesses, they just leave a mess.’ I’ve gotten a few of those comments, not a ton, but there are the naysayers. But the businesses love what we’re doing there. We’re lifting everybody up; we’re trying to get other people involved there. We wave at Tom at Barnes & Noble, and he dances for us.