Sweat
There are many types of physical exertion
Sweat, George Cypher had always said, was a sign of honest, physical labour.
Whenever Richard became hot and sweaty from chopping wood for the fire, he remembered that and felt good about himself.
When he worked out, stretching his muscles, practising swinging the Sword of Truth, he didn't mind getting that his palms grew slick with sweat. This was a different sort of physical work, needed to keep him in shape. He was the Seeker and had to be at his best.
When he fought, taking down those who would harm him, his companions, or the innocents of the Midlands, he didn't notice the sweat running down his back until later. Only when his adrenaline was spent did he ever notice his wounds, or the dampness on his chest and beneath his arms. This was decent work, protecting people.
When fire rose in his belly, and he made love, the sweat that pooled in the small of his back smelt of desire. Maybe it wasn't as pure and innocent as the labour of chopping wood, nor as noble as the act of fighting evil, but Richard was never happier to be hot and slick with sweat as when she was in his arms.