Eugenia Kritsuk (E ’25) grew up two blocks from the beach in San Diego, Calif. These days, she’s counting down to a different coast—the tree–lined border of Canada, where she’ll end a monthslong journey on the Pacific Crest Trail. “I can take a break from being an academic weapon,” she laughs, seated in the laptop–glow haze of Stommons, where ambient stress is practically built into the floor tiles. After four years of engineering labs and job applications, she’s trading concrete for mountains—one kind of endurance test for another.
The mechanical engineering major spends most of her time around Accenture Café—or any cafe in the greater West Philadelphia area (a personal favorite is Jezabel’s)—Shoemaker Green, and the occasional slackline on high rise field. “I just don’t do the whole club thing,” Eugenia admits, but she’s found her people—mostly fellow engineers, friends of friends, and climbers she’s met through the gym. One of them, as it happens, will join her on her 2,000–mile trek this summer.
“I met the guy I’m doing the PCT with in my first month at the climbing gym, just like, randomly. We were roommates my junior year, and we’ve kind of just … stayed in touch,” she says, as if that kind of luck is both obvious and unremarkable. It’s serendipitous, and despite what Eugenia frames as a subpar extracurricular commitment, it’s obvious her social circle is rich with casually formed, steadfast relationships. There’s something refreshingly unadorned about it all: People show up, and that’s enough. That same kind of quiet, no–frills loyalty seems to thread through her academic life as well.
First a bioengineering major, Eugenia made the decision to switch after what might be called “gentle” peer pressure following a few stints in the medical device sector. “Everyone there was basically harping, ‘Switch into MechE! Switch into MechE!’ So I was like, ‘Oh gosh, I’m in the wrong major,’ but honestly, it was the best decision I made. No regrets about that one.” She talks about the department like a second home, and from her easy, unfussy disposition, it’s clear just how much she values the people who fill it. “I love my major. I feel like there’s a lot of camaraderie, and everyone’s super nice and willing and supportive. There have been times I’ve been in the lab super late, and someone from my class will bring me dinner,” she says. “I'll be like, ‘Thanks, man. Fantastic.’”
Despite the coterie she’s cultivated, the senior reflects on her first moments at Penn as somewhat of a “culture shock,” admitting that a childhood spent within earshot of the Pacific Ocean and visits to Yosemite National Park didn’t exactly prepare her for Philadelphia’s concrete jungle. Adjusting to a city with limited green space—and students that rarely pause long enough to look up—wasn’t exactly seamless. “Touching grass here is really hard,” she laughs. And it’s so painfully true. Her words land as a joke, but read so clearly as shorthand for a particular campus atmosphere: relentless, career focused, and not particularly breathable.
“I wouldn’t consider my high school very competitive. I feel like that’s not usually the experience of people that come to Penn,” she says. “Penn was the last school I applied to. I was like, ‘Okay, I’ll just send my application and see what happens.’” And luckily, things worked out. Eugenia enrolled in the School of Engineering and Applied Science that fall, and engineering was always the gig. Not only did she reap a passion for the outdoors from her parents, but she also practically inherited the STEM gene. Both her parents are in academia: Her mother is in material science engineering and her father is a theoretical astrophysicist. To boot, her brother is a naval architect and marine engineer. “It’s kind of in the blood,” she laughs.
As far as her own career aspirations go, Eugenia combines a love for activity and adventure with building things. “A large part of why I want to work in sports tech, especially the outdoors industry, is that it’s very work–life balance oriented. They understand that everyone loves to go outside.” Having interned at Callaway Golf the summer prior, Eugenia found herself neck–deep in data science design, “working backwards” from metrics to optimize club performance—a first taste of the sports world that left her intrigued by the industry, if not the game. “I think golf might not be the sport for me,” she shrugs. Running, climbing, and those dirt–under–nails activities are more her speed.
Unfortunately for Eugenia, as is the case with a growing number of college seniors, recruitment is a looming obstacle. Hundreds and hundreds of applications later, she maintains, “I kinda haven’t been willing to compromise yet.” Her position is steadfast in a not–so–stable industry, which has, in short, been in a post–COVID–19 tailspin—after a massive boom in outdoor recreation during the early pandemic, demand dropped just as dramatically once the world opened back up again. “A lot of these companies are just sitting on inventory they don’t know what to do with,” she explains. “And that obviously takes years and years to recover from.” Pair that with looming public land policy changes leaving less recreational space, and the result is a drop in demand so massive even entry–level hopefuls like Eugenia are told, sometimes bluntly, “Good luck.”
At the same time, Eugenia looks to an equally dismal area of opportunity: graduate school. “The kind of work I want to do is new product development and design. So obviously, it’s good to have an innovative background, and a lot of that innovation does come directly from research,” she says. Unfortunately, post–graduate education in the United States, as she puts it, “officially sucks.” Ergo, the senior finds more hope across the Atlantic Ocean. “The combination of getting to live abroad, plus continuing my education, specifically in the sports world, was something I was interested in.”
Eugenia had recently applied to Loughborough University in the United Kingdom, which has one of the best sports technology programs in the world, and made it to the final round of interviews. Only one applicant would be accepted. “If I had gotten that, I would not be here jobless right now,” she says, with a laugh that feels like a half–exhale. “But, whatever, rejection is redirection—that’s what I’m telling myself.”
So instead, she’s doing one thing she can plan: the PCT’s 2,500 miles of longleaf pines and rolling hills. “It’s kind of always something I’ve had in the back of my mind,” she says, recalling her childhood trips to Yosemite. As a kid, the idea of it all seemed silly. “Then I thought about it critically, and I was like, ‘I think this is something I need to do.’ Logically, this is the only time in my life where I could.”
She’ll start about 500 miles in, skipping the dusty desert stretch near the California–Mexico border, as graduation puts her weeks behind the ideal start window. Instead, she’s beginning at the Sierra Nevada—straight into elevation, alpine lakes, and snowmelt crossings—then heading north through Oregon and Washington until she hits the Canadian border. There’s a plan to backtrack when she finishes and go south again, but she’s realistic. “Knowing me,” she grins, “after I get through Washington and see all the pretty green, I’m not running it back to the desert.”
It’s not the first time she’s found solace in travel during her time at Penn. “A lot of my childhood was just camping trips. A lot of camping trips. Now that I’m in college, spring breaks have kind of been my time to frolic.” Last year, she spent time in Portugal for what was the “second–best” week of her life, topped only, she affirms, by her trip to Ireland just this March. She’s definitely not one to shy away from a journey. Her brother lives in Edinburgh, Scotland. She’s spent breaks couch surfing up and down the East Coast. If there’s a cheap flight or a friend with a spare futon, Eugenia’s already halfway there.
“Honestly, the number one bar conversation that I always have abroad is just, ‘Can we talk a little bit about work?’” she admits. “And everyone there just preaches work–life balance.” I nod along. People clock out. They go home. They hike. They exist. It’s simple, but her words hang in the air between us.
Eugenia doesn’t have a five–year plan, and she’s not pretending to. But she’s carved out something better: an ethos, some way of moving through the world that feels honest. Whether that leads her to Europe or a half–frozen mountain pass, there’s no rush to get there. What comes after the trail is anyone’s guess. But for now, north is good enough.
