Walking is safe sex for me. You see, you take your deep, sighing breaths and your hair tosses in the wind and you lift your chin a little to gulp in more fresh air, and you close your eyes a little against the warmth of the emerging sun, and your feet and your legs pump in unison and your thighs rub against each other in a rhythm, and you perspire a lot, and your T-shirt and shorts fill with moisture until you could wring them out by the time you've done a mile or so, and you're panting during the second mile, and your joints are growing looser and warmer, and your mind is floating and swaying with the tops of the trees, and everything is, for a few blessed moments, right. Walking as orgasm.
— BettyClare Moffatt, Spiritual Literacy by Frederic Brussat, Mary Ann Brussat