Winrevair Goal # 2: Do the Pit for Bruce Springsteen Again ✅
- TWB
- Jun 8
- 12 min read
As I work through my goals of what I wanted to do since starting Winrevair (Sotatercept) in December 2025, next on my list was stand in the Pit for Bruce Springsteen again.
For most people, that probably sounds like a concert goal. For me, it was about getting back an experience I thought PAH had taken from me.
Bruce Springsteen has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. Some of my earliest music memories involve Bruce playing somewhere in the background. My Dad has been a fan since he was young, and being a Bruce fan was not exactly optional in our family.
There are videos of my sisters and me dancing to “Man’s Job” and other songs when we were little. Every morning on the drive to school, Bruce was playing in the car. When The Rising came out, I remember it became the soundtrack of our daily lives. My sisters and I were each allowed to pick one song to prioritize during the drive, but otherwise we listened to the album from start to finish. Over and over and over again.
My Dad taught me the names of all the albums, the names of the band members, their nicknames, and the stories behind each of the songs. I knew Bruce was robbed of his first number one hit, and we had to hold a grudge against When Doves Cry in solidarity. Bruce Springsteen was everywhere in my life, and at times it felt more like Stockholm Syndrome to be a fan of his than anything else.
But that would all change when I was in high school.
In 2008, during the Magic Tour, my Dad pulled me out of school early and drove us from Kansas City to Omaha for the show in the Pit.
Back then, getting into the Pit was a chance of luck through the lottery system. You received a wristband with a number upon arrival. A few hours before showtime, a number would be called, and that became the new start of the line. From there, you just hoped your number could get you close to the stage, maybe people didn’t show back up and you move up a few numbers, or at least the number you got a good enough spot to be in the first Pit.
That day in Omaha, was my first time in the Pit. And for the first time, I understood the appeal. Being in the Pit was not just seeing a concert. It was truly an experience.
It was also the first time I heard Because the Night live. I remember watching Nils Lofgren do his spins and being transfixed. I realized while standing for the whole concert, why people followed Bruce around the country and planned entire vacations around concerts. For the first time, I got the hype and became a fan of Bruce myself, not just because my Dad was making me be one.
From there, the Pit became the backdrop for some of my favorite memories with my Dad.
There was the infamous St. Louis show in 2008, when my Dad was the very last person allowed into the Pit and security tried to separate us. We had been pretty far back in line and did not think we were going to make it into the first Pit …. but then it poured, like a straight downpour. But we, as dedicated fans, waited it out, while many others left the line. As it was time to line up, the more hopeful we became.
My Dad was in front of me, and that was where the cutoff happened.
I was sixteen at the time, and my Dad’s solution was to tell security he would just meet me after the show.
Security informed him that leaving his teenage daughter alone at a concert was probably not going to work.
His response?
“Well, I’m not giving up the Pit.”
To this day, I am still not entirely convinced he was bluffing. Thankfully, security let me through…. Reluctantly. Ask any Springsteen fan, and they will tell you the 2008 St. Louis show was probably one of his best. And I was there, in the Pit, for all of it.
A few years later in 2012, in Kansas City, I had a sign and a mission: get on stage.
It was all contingent on getting into the Pit lottery and getting a prime spot. My sign said, “I Want to Dance With Nils.” The stars aligned. I was in the first Pit, in the right spot, and with some guidance, I lifted my sign at exactly the right moments to get noticed.
When “Dancing in the Dark” came on, I had my moment. I was selected to go on stage, and I danced with Nils.
Before getting off the stage, I even had my own Courtney Cox moment with Bruce.
At the time, I did not think I could top that Pit experience.
But a few years later, during my spring break from law school in 2016, I went to 3 Bruce shows on The River Tour and did the Pit lottery for two of them.
The first was Milwaukee, where I stood outside in the bitter cold at the beginning of March to see him play. We did not get into the first Pit, but got a prime spot for Tenth Avenue Freeze Out.
The second was back in St. Louis, and once again, I was on a mission.
My Mom, Dad, and one of my sisters, Peri, were all at that concert, and I wanted to get back on stage. This time, my sign said, “My Dad says the only dancing on spring break allowed is with The Boss.”
My Dad had a sign that said, “a beer to dance with my daughters” that held a real beer the entire show!
I did what I had done the last time: waited for the right moments, tried to get noticed, and hoped for the best.
And somehow, it worked again.
But this time, I was not going up alone during Dancing in the Dark. I took Peri with me, and somehow in the mix, my mom ended up on stage too. The pictures we have from that show are priceless. My sister and I are in my Dad’s shirts from the original River Tour, on stage with Bruce and my mom.
However, that was the last time I did the Pit.
When Bruce eventually started touring again, it was after my diagnosis with Pulmonary Arterial Hypertension (PAH) in 2018. By then, my life looked different. The Remodulin side effects made it hard for me to be on my feet for more than a few minutes. PAH itself made it difficult to stand for long periods of time. I did not have the stamina or endurance for the kind of experience the Pit required. And, ontop of that, I was afraid that my subq site would be bumped or pushed while experiencing the Pit.
And the Pit is not just the concert. It is the waiting, the standing, the lines, the heat, the cold, the crowds, the uncertainty, and then the actual show itself, which makes it hard to plan with PAH.
For years, I had been able to do that without thinking twice. After my PAH diagnosis, I could not.
This was one of the hardest parts of adjusting to life with this disease. It was not only the big, obvious lifestyle changes. It was all the little pieces of my old life that slowly became inaccessible. Things I used to assume I could do without a second thought were now things I would have to have to carefully plan and consider if I could even do. Could I stand that long? Would there be a place to sit? What if I got too tired? What if I could not make it through? Would my pump go off? What about my remote?
So while I never officially said, “I am done with the Pit,” I think a part of me accepted that I was.
However, I still got to experience Bruce’s shows.
I saw Springsteen on Broadway in 2019 and got him to sign the picture of me, my Mom, and Peri on stage from St. Louis.
I went to his shows, in the seats, and still did signs too.
I was FaceTimed in at concerts for Because of the Night every time my parents went to a show.
I still loved the music and the experiences. But it was not the same.
And because my parents would never choose the Pit if it meant leaving me out, they did seats too when I would go to a show with them. That was hard in its own way. PAH was not just changing what I could do. It was changing the way my family experienced something because of me.
Then the medication Winrevair (Sotatercept) happened.
When tickets went on sale for Bruce’s Land of Hope and Dreams Tour this past year, I had only recently started my Winrevair journey. I was beginning to feel the positive effects of the medication, but I was afraid to be too hopeful. After years of learning my limits the hard way, hope felt risky.
I knew I wanted to go to his shows in some way, but to how many was a question. Because I did not want to force everyone into seats.
So when getting tickets, my Dad got two Pit tickets for as many shows as he could, and 4 seat tickets for night two in Los Angeles so Peri and I could join.
Knowing LA Night 2 was near the middle of the tour, and my Dad had Pit tickets to shows after, I made a deal with myself. If I could stand for the entire LA show, knowing I had the option to sit if I needed to, then maybe I could start thinking seriously about trying the Pit again for a different show.
The LA show was great.
And I stood the whole time.
After that, I voiced the idea out loud to my Dad: What if I did the Pit with him for one of the upcoming shows?
He asked if I was sure.
I was. I was ready. I was walking more. Standing more. Withstanding more endurance. I thought to myself, if not now, when.
Cue Goal # 2: Finally do the Pit again for a Bruce show.
Based on timing with work and how the Pit line runs now, we decided I would go to the Pittsburgh show in May instead of my Mom.
The Pit was now handled differently than before. It’s now fan run line, no more lottery system. You now receive a number based on when you show up in line, and that is now your number to enter the Pit. So a first come, first serve sort of deal. With that in mind, we flew from Orange County to Pittsburgh on Friday. The show, however, was not until Tuesday.
Because that is what Bruce Pit people do. You show up early for the Pit.
We got an Air BNB right near PPG Paints Arena. On Saturday morning, we walked around to see if the line had started or if any other fans were around. By mid-morning, enough of us had gathered to start organizing the line. As a group, we had to decide who would run the line, meaning who would be # 1 and be in charge of giving out numbers, coordinate check-ins, keep things orderly, and communicate with the venue.
Somehow, it was decided that my Dad and I would run the line.
I went from wondering if I could physically do the Pit again to helping run the line and being number one (his choice, not mine). That go big or go home mentality.
For three days before the show, we ran the line. We had check-ins 3 times a day, we gave out numbers, took shifts, answered questions, and helped keep everything moving.
During these 3 days, I met some great people. We traded fan stories, talked about life, talked about Bruce, and sometimes just talked about anything to pass the time. There is something surreal about being surrounded for hours by people who all understand why this matters. I thought Swifties were dedicated, but Bruce fans are truly next level.
Then, on the day of the concert, we showed up at 4:45 in the morning.
I waited in line through three rainstorms, 91-degree heat, and fourteen hours of waiting outside the venue, with only a short break to change and eat before getting back into it.
All of that craziness was worth it when the show started.
My Dad had told me this Pit would feel unlike any other. He said it would feel like a private concert based on the spots we had.
He was right.
When the lights went down, it was almost an out-of-body experience. You truly feel like it is just you, Bruce, and the E Street Band in the room. No one else.
For three and a half hours, it felt like my own private concert made up of songs I have heard my whole life.
Getting to see Because the Night up close again, and Nils’ spins.
The songs I heard in the car on the way to school each morning.
The songs that blast through our outdoor speakers on nice days.
The songs I hear from my parents’ room that we call “shower songs.”
The songs that have played during countless road trips.
In that moment, you forget about the four days leading up to it. You forget about the early mornings, the rain, the heat, the long hours, the sore feet, and the exhaustion. You forget about everything except being there.
And then, during “My City of Ruins,” Bruce took my hand.
We made eye contact, and for a moment, everything else disappeared.
I did not think about PAH. I did not think about medication. I did not think about limitations, stamina, oxygen, side effects, or everything I had spent years adjusting around.
I was just there.
Present.
Feeling good enough to be there.
Strong enough to be there.
Living fully in a moment I once thought was behind me.
That was the part that hit me the hardest. I was so happy to be there and so grateful that my body could do it, but there was also a bittersweet moment underneath it. Because when something becomes possible again, you also realize how long it was impossible.
I thought about the shows I could not do this way with my Dad. The years when standing for even a few minutes felt hard. The moments my family adapted around my limitations. The times I accepted seats because that was what my body could handle. The thoughts of letting go of something that had once felt like such a normal part of my life.
Winrevair did not give me those years back. Nothing can. But it gave me the chance for this night and incredible experience.
Most of all, I was grateful I got to share something like this again with my Dad.
That is what made this experience so special. While both of my parents have been there through every step of my PAH journey, Bruce has always been something my Dad and I shared. From the music in the car and the Pit lotteries to the road trips, signs, stage moments, and all the stories that came with them, some of my favorite memories with him have happened because of Bruce Springsteen.
Standing there together as numbers one and two in line wasn’t something I took for granted. I knew what it had taken for me to get there, and having my Dad beside me—someone who had supported me throughout that journey—made the moment even more meaningful. It felt like a reminder that hard work, perseverance, and the support of the people who stand by you can lead to moments you never forget.
We were not watching from seats or modifying the experience around my limitations. We were actually there, standing in the Pit again as numbers one and two in line, experiencing the kind of Bruce show that had been part of our lives for so long, while also knowing this night was its own once-in-a-lifetime memory.
A few months ago, standing in the Pit for Bruce Springsteen felt completely out of reach. In Pittsburgh, I did more than stand in the Pit. I helped run the line, stood for hours, survived the storms, the heat, the waiting, and the show...
And I got a piece of my life back, because the night belongs to us!
Goal # 2: completed ✅
This has to be one of the most inspirationing things I’ve ever read! You are a marvel Jenna. I’d be HONORED to be able to hang with you in the pit one day. I will relish that opportunity.