Why I hate forced marches (Also known as "walks")

Now for a word on forced marches or "walks" as Mama #2014 likes to call them. Maggie and Harley appear to enjoy them; I do not.
I show my displeasure by lagging behind. No matter, Mama #2014 keeps right on dragging me along.
Marines and Army people march. They may join the military willingly, but when they are told to march, they march. I think walking is voluntary. "Do you want to go for a walk?" And if the person says, "no," then the person does not have to go. In the military, they don't say, do you want to go for a march; they just say (or yell) MARCH!
I do not have a choice about going on a march. Mama #6013 says, "let's go!" and the next thing I know, I am being dragged all over the neighborhood at a speed of 3.2 mph. I prefer to stroll along at 2.8mph. (How do I know the speeds? Mama #6013 is a gadget freak! She keeps track of length, speed and time of all my forced marches. Why? I don't know).
I prefer to walk on grass or dirt. There's even one particular type of grass I prefer to walk on, but I do prefer grass. I hate walking on asphalt. Concrete is better and sidewalks are OK. Streets are not OK. Cinder tracks or gravel tracks are OK. Alleys are OK.
I like parks. I like to sniff around and look at the lakes and birds. I like schools (if there's no kids around). Again, lots and lots of interesting things to sniff.
I don't really like marching to a park or a school. Maybe Mama #1 could drive me to the park and I could join Maggie and Harley there. Then Mama #1 could drive me back home. That might be a good compromise.
Another thing, if it's over 82 degrees outside, it is too hot to march. If it is under 69 degrees, it is too cold to march. If Mama #6013 has to wear a coat or jacket, it's way too cold for a short haired diva like me to march!
Uh, oh. Here comes Mama # 9002 with the leash. (Please note how her number keeps dropping the longer I think about forced marching). Gotta go. Wish me luck!