One of the secret ingredients in life is having something to look forward to.

It sounds simple, almost obvious, but it’s easy to forget. Life doesn’t automatically hand you anticipation. You have to design it. You have to make choices—sometimes small, sometimes uncomfortable—that give future versions of yourself something to circle on the calendar, or at least hold quietly in your mind.

I’m lucky. Right now, I have a lot to look forward to.

I believe deeply in routines and regimens. Waking up at the same time. Eating breakfast. Getting to the gym at consistent hours. Structure creates stability, and stability creates space to think, work, and show up for the people you love.

But here’s what often gets missed: it’s just as important to break the monotony of routine and shock the system every once in a while.

When you do that, one of two things happens. Either you learn something new and grow as a person—or you come running back to your routine with a deeper appreciation for it. Most of the time, if you’re lucky, it’s both.

The things we look forward to come in two forms. There are tangible things—travel already booked, dates on the calendar, places you can point to on a map. And then there are intangible things—goals, intentions, quiet promises you make to yourself, like trying to lose 20 pounds or reclaiming time you’ve been giving away too easily.

As I look toward 2026, I’m excited about both.

In between winter food truck gigs, I’ve carved out time to visit my mother in Florida and help her get her affairs in order—one of those responsibilities that doesn’t show up in Instagram posts but matters deeply. I’ll spend time with one of my sons in one of my favorite cities, Los Angeles, and while I’m there I plan to experience Cosm, a one-of-a-kind immersive sports bar where massive shared screens and spatial audio make you feel like you’re sitting courtside at a global sporting event—without ever leaving your seat.

I’ll visit a friend in South Carolina and explore parts of the country I’ve never seen before. I’ll bring a group of like-minded people to Southern Italy to cook, bake, taste wine and olive oil, and wander rolling hills together. I’ll continue studying pizza in Naples, where humility is baked into the dough and you’re reminded that no matter how much you know, there’s always more to learn.

For the first time, I’ll compete in two world-class international pizza competitions. I’ll launch weekly blogs under both jimserpico.com and Serpico’s Bread Co.—putting ideas, lessons, and mistakes into words instead of letting them swirl endlessly in my head. I’ll spend more undistracted time with my wife of 33 years, which feels less like a goal and more like a privilege.

I’ll launch a monthly pizza tasting residency to challenge myself creatively and force new styles out of my hands. I’ll try—once again—to get back to the gym consistently and lose 20 pounds, knowing full well that the trying is the point. I’ll continue to bond with each of my children, watch them grow, and be present enough to listen when they need an ear more than advice.

I’ll help co-found a Brotherhood of friends who make it a point to visit new pizzerias every month—because shared meals still beat group texts. And maybe most importantly, I’ll say no to more food truck gigs than ever before, creating space where space is long overdue.

Looking Ahead

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: looking forward doesn’t mean wishing your life away. It means respecting the present enough to give it a future worth walking toward.

Routine keeps you grounded. Anticipation keeps you alive. Too much of either, and things start to wobble. But when they’re in balance, you wake up with purpose, fall asleep with gratitude, and somewhere in between you get surprised—by growth, by clarity, by joy you didn’t plan for.

So here’s to 2026. Not because it will magically be better than now, but because I’ve given myself reasons to meet it with curiosity, humility, and maybe a little flour still stuck to my hands.

And if nothing else works out exactly as planned? Well, at least I’ll still have something to look forward to tomorrow morning.

About the Author

Jim Serpico is a former television producer turned bread and pizza maker, writer, and founder of Serpico’s Bread Co. After decades in show business, he now works with flour, fire, and fermentation—writing about food, reinvention, craft, and the stories that connect them.
jimserpico.com